The Red Lantern
by kathhersit
Summary: Laurel Anderson works in the Red Lantern as a bartender, and one night she makes friends with a James Buchanan Barnes. She doesn't know who he is but she does know 2 things. One, he has some major skeletons in his closet, and two, the sparks between them are crazy. Too bad that where there's sparks there's smoke and fire, and it attracts friends and enemies.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1- THE RED LANTERN

There was an unusual amount of people in the bar tonight. The cheap red lanterns that were placed on every table and hanging randomly from the ceiling gave the bar a dim, mysterious look and the cigarette smoke only added to the aura. In the corner, a battered old jukebox blared something by an 80's hair band and there were a few couples dancing around in the corner. The high wooden bar was surrounded by stools that were covered in cracked red vinyl. The laughter and chatter ebbed and flowed at a level that bordered on overwhelming, but that wasn't unusual for a Friday night like this.

To a first-time visitor, a bar like this might have held some sort of magic to it. But for Laurel, the magic was long gone. She cracked her neck tried to massage some of the tension out of her shoulders, before turning back to the row of patrons ready for her to take their order. Her faded gray Converse that were at least 4 years old painfully reminded her that she had been working for 6 hours already every time she moved her feet.

"Laurel, can you take my order?" a familiar gruff voice came from her left. She glanced over and rolled her eyes, a small smile forming on her lips. "Dave, I will get to your order when I can. You know my rules. I serve the mixed drinks first and you always get a beer. So wait." Dave chuckled good naturedly and raised his hands in surrender. If her boss, Richard, ever heard her say that to any customer he might keel over on the spot, but Dave was a regular so he knew she wasn't kidding around. She made sure that everyone she served knew how serious she was about the rules she set for herself. After 3 years of working almost constantly at the Red Lantern, she was fairly well known and her rules were too.

Brushing a blonde ringlet out of her face absently, she turned to the old man in front of her and smiled tiredly. "What can I get you?" The man looked at her from underneath scraggly eyebrows with eyes that made her cringe and leaned over the bar, giving her a whiff of the cheap overwhelming cologne. "How about a night with your body my dear?" He winked lewdly and Laurel snorted. "All right buddy, that was strike one. I give everyone three chances, because I'm a nice person. You might not want to figure out what happens when you hit strike three." The other patrons all jeered at the man, who flushed angrily and then smirked at Laurel and turned away. Laurel rolled her eyes, and pulling up jeans that were far too big for her, continued to serve drinks to the increasingly raucous crowd. She didn't dress to attract when she was working, or ever for that matter, and tonight was no exception. Both the jeans she was wearing and the black v-neck were found in the men's section of the thrift store. It was always funny when guys complimented her outfit, because most of the guys that hit on her were horny or desperate for a discount on drinks.

The jukebox was still cranking out old 80's music, even though it was almost drowned out by the drunken singing, and that was a sign that the night was starting to wrap up. There were less people ordering, so Laurel took a plastic bus tub from under the counter and started picking up what seemed like hundreds of mugs and glasses from the tables. She was reaching over a table to grab the last beer mug when she felt a sharp pinch on her ass. She spun around and there standing far too close to her was the creep from earlier. He winked at her and she scowled, the hand that wasn't holding the bus tub clenching so tightly that her fingernails pierced the skin on her palms.

"That was strike two asshole. Try me again and see what happens." He made a move towards her and she spun around and returned to bar, breathing deeply through her nose in an attempt to calm down. Richard had already had some complaints about her threatening the customers, so she was trying to keep her temper in check. Surveying the bar, Laurel mentally calculated how much time it would take for her to clean up. There were less people now and the jukebox had changed from an 80's hair band to a sad country ballad.

A few people were crowding the stools, and a couple was heavily making out in the back booth. There was a lone figure at one of the tables, with a singular glass sitting in front of it. The shoulders were tense and powerful looking. There was a dark jacket covering the shoulders and a baseball hat pulled down low. Laurel hadn't noticed the person come in or when they had ordered, but when it got especially hectic Laurel had a tendency to blur people together and just pour what they wanted then immediately forgetting what they looked like. She pursed her lips together, and after checking her battered black leather watch, reached under the bar and pulled out a sign saying that the bar was closed for the night. It closed every night at 2 am, and gave her a chance to clean the bar before last call. The bottles needed to be restocked and reorganized, and there were so many peanut shells on the floor it was starting to look light brown.

She was wiping down the front of the bar with a rag that probably wasn't much cleaner than the bar when she felt someone's hot breath on her neck. "Hey sweetheart, miss me?" The creep from before smelled like his cheap cologne and the unpleasant addition of beer. Laurel shivered inwardly, but maintained her composure. "No, I can't say that I did. Now please back up." She tried to move away, but his hands clamped around her waist and pulled her backwards. "All right you fucker. That was strike three." She slammed her elbow back into his stomach and when he recoiled, stomped on his foot until he let go of her completely. He stumbled backward, then righted himself and snarled, starting towards her with a twisted scowl on his face. He swung wildly, and Laurel dodged it easily, letting him stagger past her. She smirked and turned, but was blindsided by a bottle that came flying towards her head. She stuck her arm in front of her face and snarled when the bottle shattered on her arm. She could feel the warm blood drip down her arm and she was getting lightheaded.

She wiped off her face, ignoring the smeared blood and watched the creep come towards her again. Rather than use her previous tactic of dodging, she just wound up with her injured arm and struck him directly in the nose. He staggered backwards and Laurel used her other arm to punch him in the eye. He collapsed on the ground and she stood, breathing heavily and trying to ignore the throbbing pain that was taking over her body. Richard wouldn't be very happy with her. She grabbed the limp body and gritting her teeth, tried to lift him. Laurel got his head and shoulders off of the ground, but it was no use, so she let him fall back with a thud. She looked around the bar and noted the sudden lack of almost all people. The only person left was the lone figure, who was standing and staring intently. Laurel scratched her the back of her neck awkwardly. "You should probably go home." The figure jumped, like they hadn't had anyone talk to they in a long time. "You're bleeding," his voice was hoarse and deep and sent shivers down her spine. Laurel looked down at her arm, "Huh, look at that." Then a wave of lightheadedness swept over her and she slid ungracefully to the floor. The figure strode over to her and the last thing she remembered was a pair of steel blue eyes that she wouldn't ever forget.

This is my first story on FanFiction, so any tips would be so helpful! If you liked it, review and vote! Thank you!

kath


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2- Unexpected Gestures

When Laurel came to, she was laying on the floor staring up at the ceiling, and she was completely alone. The bar was dark, with the only light coming from the neon bar signs that were shining on the street. Wiggling her fingers and toes experimentally to see if she still had all of her limbs, she tried to recall what had happened. Memories came back in pieces, and the pain in her arm came back with a sudden ferocity when she recalled the bottle shattering and digging into her skin. She slowly sat up, biting her lip when pain shot through her arm and when she glanced downward, she noted with some surprise that there was a clean white bandage around her forearm. Laurel scooted backward on her butt until her back was resting on a nearby pole and gingerly peeled the bandage off. It looked like all the glass had been cleaned out but there were at least 15 cuts and some of them pretty deep, but nothing that looked worthy of getting stitches. That was a blessing because stitches were not something she had enough money for.

Trying to figure out how there was no glass in her arm anymore conjured up a vivid image of blue eyes that made her shiver. She had no idea who the stranger was, but he had saved her one hell of an explanation for her boss and most likely her life. But he wasn't here for her to thank and clearly wanted no recognition for what he did, so she let it slide for the time being. Using her arm as little as possible, she hoisted herself up off the floor and surveyed the mess that was left. In addition to the peanut shells that still covered the floor, there was now broken glass and a substance that looked suspiciously like her own blood. There was no way that she could leave the bar without cleaning it and still be ready for opening it up tomorrow.

"Goddamn it," she mumbled to herself and walked stiffly over to the counter, pulling a broom from a closet next to it. It took twice as long as usual for her to sweep and by the end her blood had soaked through the bandages again and she was fighting back the tears. A quick glance at her watch told her that it was almost 5 am and the determination left her body instantaneously. The next shift she was working started in 12 hours and she needed sleep before she exploded or collapsed or both.

Shuffling over to the counter, she pulled out her phone and a set of keys from a basket under the cash register. Her phone was dead so she shoved it into her back pocket and walked over to the door, pushing it open and stepping into the early morning air. The sky was starting to lighten on the horizon and Laurel stood under the faded red awning for a while, watching her breath puff and disappear until she turned and walked down the sidewalk to the door right next to the bar. Her apartment was right above the bar, and it was times like this one where she was incredibly grateful for its location. There was a narrow set of stairs that creaked a ridiculous amount leading up to her door. The chipped white paint could have used a repainting, but Richard had made it clear any repairs were up to her when she moved in and she didn't have the time or energy to fix it. Unlocking it, she stepped over the threshold and entered her tiny apartment. There were only 3 rooms including the bathroom and bedroom, but it was exactly what she needed. Kicking off her Converse, which she absentmindedly noticed had a spot of blood on them, she walked into the bedroom and flopped down on the bed, falling asleep almost immediately.

* * *

The blaring alarm woke Laurel up what felt like 30 minutes later with drool on one side of her face and throbbing pain in her arm. A quick check of her clock told her she had an hour and a half before work started, meaning she had been asleep for almost 11 hours, and she still had to finish cleaning the bar. She walked into the bathroom and jumped when she saw her reflection in the mirror. There was dried blood all over one side of her face and enormous bags under her eyes, although those were nothing new. Taking a shower proved to be a challenge, and Laurel stood under the tepid stream wincing whenever water hit one of her cuts. Her thoughts kept returning to the blue eyed stranger, even as she dressed in a pair of her ex-boyfriend's jeans that were ripped from use rather than fashion and a long sleeved gray t-shirt. She pulled the only other pair of shoes she had out of the tiny closet, which were also Converse, just black. Laurel eyed her arm critically, pleased to see that it was finally scabbing over. She decided to go without a bandage, opting to simply spread antibacterial ointment on it instead. Her grandma always believed that open air was the best cure for injuries, and had passed that belief onto Laurel. That and Laurel didn't own any bandages to cover it with anyway.

With a sigh, she locked her door and walked down to what she privately viewed as her personal purgatory. She hadn't meant to get stuck here, but the past 3 years had been hard, and here she was as a 24-year-old and no clear way out of this job. Laurel had resigned herself to the idea that she was doomed to a life of routine and boredom, and was now focused on just trying to survive.

The next hour was a blur with mopping the floor to clean up her blood, stocking the bar, and catching up on everything that she couldn't do the night before. By the time Richard showed up to check in on her there was no trace of what happened the night before. Laurel was walking around, turning on the plastic candles in the red lanterns on when Richard walked through the door.

"Hiya Laur! How'd everything go last night?" Richard was a rotund, balding man that liked to talk about his cats and viewed Laurel as a surrogate daughter. He was the only one who sent her a birthday card and Laurel appreciated it, even if he always gave her the tacky cartoon cards she detested. Fortunately he was also incredibly oblivious.

"Great! Here's the receipts," Laurel smiled, handing over the stack of paper. Her stomach let out an unexpected growl and Richard frowned. "Laur, when's the last time you ate something?"

Laurel squinted and tried to remember, "Umm…Thursday I think? Yeah, I had a burger Thursday night."

"Laurel Charlotte Anderson, how many times have I told you? You have to eat, especially when you're working this much. You're too thin as it is." He patted her back.

Laurel always meant to eat, but then either the bar got too busy or she would rather sleep. "I'll try Richard."

She gave the same answer every time, but Richard was easy to placate and he smiled in her direction, patting her on the shoulder. "That's good sweetheart, I'll see you tomorrow okay? I'll bring your paycheck tomorrow!"

He walked out and Laurel waved goodbye as the first few customers started streaming in. Then all thoughts of food flew out of the window and she focused on serving rather than her empty stomach. It was even busier than yesterday night, and she was exhausted by 11 pm. Her arm throbbed every time she moved but it seemed there would be no end to the line of customers. Around 1 am she got a break and surveyed the bar. Everything looked like it was the exact same as last night, right down to the same music as always. It was like last night had never happened.

Suddenly she noticed the same solitary figure from the night before sitting at a table. Her palms became clammy and she wiped them off a few times on her jeans as she made her way through the crowd to him. Normally she wasn't this nervous to talk to new people, but someone that she owed her life made it a lot harder. She stood next to his table and cleared her throat awkwardly. The man jumped and looked up at her. Laurel was once again struck by his eyes, but now that she was fully conscious, the rest of his face was in focus. He had stubble from a few days covering his cheeks and a sharp jawline. The hair that was sticking out from underneath his hat was dark and the bags under his eyes matched Laurel's. He was incredibly handsome, but she forced herself to focus on what she came here to do.

"Hi." He was just staring at her with an emotionless expression on his face. "I wanted to thank you for helping me last night. You certainly didn't have to, and I owe you for that. My name is Laurel." Something like a smile passed through his blue eyes, but he still remained silent. Rocking backward on her heels awkwardly, Laurel stuck a hand out and he eyed it warily, like he was calculating the risk of shaking her hand. Finally he extended his hand in return and she shook it, noticing that he was wearing leather gloves.

"My name is Buc- James. James Barnes."

 _ **Chapter 2 up! Thank you so much to those of you who reviewed! I really enjoyed reading your comments! If you like this chapter, review and favorite. If you have any tips, let me know! Thank you!**_  
 _ **kath**_


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3- Apples and Cinnamon

 **Bucky POV**

Bucky wasn't quite sure why he had come back to the tiny bar 2 nights in a row. After what had happened at SHIELD headquarters his plan to constantly keep moving and re-learning who he was meant that he almost never returned to the same place twice. He didn't even like drinking that much, but bars let him stay warm and dry longer because they closed later. Sleeping wherever he could was beginning to wear him out, so he ordered one drink and made it last the whole night. However, the night before had thrown him for a loop.

Bucky was doing his nightly routine, sitting at a dirty table with a glass in front of him and his backpack in-between his legs, keeping his head down and his senses alert. The patrons of the bar left him alone, seeming to understand he didn't want to talk. He focused on the flickering of the light from the lantern on the tabletop and let the fractured memories overwhelm his mind. Split second images of people he used to know like Steve, his friends from the war, and even his own mother flickered through his brain before he could catch them and examine them, like he was trying to catch snowflakes and see them before them melted. It was an incredibly frustrating process that Bucky was determined to repeat until it worked. Time must have passed without his knowledge, because the next time he lifted his eyes, he was almost alone in the bar.

Bucky noted a commotion from the corner of his eye and subtly shifted his attention to the source. It was the petite bartender that had been there the whole time and an old guy that practically reeked of a pedophile. He was saying something to her and had his hands around the woman's tiny waist in a way that made him cringe inwardly. Bucky was debating whether or not to get up and help when the woman made the decision for him. She swiftly escaped with an elbow to the old man's gut and a stomp on his foot. Bucky watched her fight, impressed with her skill. It was clear from her poise and confidence she had some previous fighting experience. When the man broke a bottle over her arm, his metal hand involuntarily clenched at the painful noise she made and he watched the blood drip down her arm with fascinated horror. Instead of giving up like he expected her, an intense determined look came over the woman's face and she easily knocked the creep out with two more punches.

Bucky stood impulsively, his posture tense and immobile as he watched the woman try to move the body. He was fighting with himself, try to decide if it was safe to help her. Suddenly her quiet voice broke the silence. "You should probably go home." He just looked for a moment before blurting out the first thing that came into his head. "You're bleeding." An unimportant part of his brain noticed that she was one of the first people he had spoken to in a month, but he was broken out of thoughts when the woman collapsed, probably from lack of adrenaline and loss of blood. The sight of her on the floor broke him out of his stupor and he started towards her. Approaching cautiously, he took in her wild blonde curls and the freckles that covered her nose. The iron tang of blood in the air alerted him to the current issue and he grasped her injured arm carefully. There were still glass pieces in her arm and instinctively he extracted the tiny tweezers from first aid kit he carried around in his backpack. There had been several missions in the past where he had been required to perform first aid on himself, and he had taken to carrying around supplies in case of a reoccurrence.

Pulling the glass from the woman's arm didn't take much time, which was a blessing for both of them. Being awake for the process would have been ten times more painful, and Bucky couldn't take the risk of her panicking and having to subdue her. While he was finishing wrapping her arm with a bandage, the creep started to shift and moan behind him. Bucky taped the bandage down and gently wiped the sweat off the woman's face with the back of his human hand, then turned and picked the man up by his throat with his metal one.

"You think it's fun to harass women?" His voice was low and emotionless, but there was an aura of danger dripping from every syllable. The man struggled in vain, his face turning purple with exertion. He finally managed to gasp out, "Why do you care?" Bucky's lips pulled into a scowl and without letting the man go, reached down, grabbed his bag and carried the man towards the back alleyway. He threw him down on the street and leaned down to speak quietly. "If I ever see you step foot in here again, I will make sure that it is the last thing you do. I would go far away if I were you." Judging from the man's wide eyes and shaking hands that were massaging his throat, he seemed to get the point. He shuffled backward, and then turned and ran. Bucky returned to the bar, where the woman was still passed out on the ground, and carefully rearranged her body so she was a bit more comfortable. He had left the bar with the intention of never returning, but the whole next day his mind kept flashing back to the woman he had left lying on the dirty floor. There was something about her face when she was fighting that had captured his interest. He returned to the bar the next night while trying to convince himself that it was simply to make sure the man didn't return and bother the bartender again.

* * *

That was why he found himself staring at the leather gloves that encased his hands, clenching the dirty tumbler of whisky in front of him as he sat at the same table in the same bar for the second night in a row. A throat clearing made him look up at he found himself face to face with the bartender, who was considerably less bloody than the first time that he saw her. He belatedly realized that she was saying something to him and he tuned in right as she said, "My name is Laurel." She stuck her hand out and Bucky involuntarily tensed, his mind immediately running through the ways that he could neutralize her before remembering that she wasn't an enemy. He stuck his hand out and replied, "My name is Buc- James. James Barnes." He spontaneously decided not to use his nickname, feeling like it wasn't the right choice. Laurel must not have noticed the hesitation in his introduction and if she did she gave no indication of it. "Hi James," she smiled at him and then said, "I have to go back to work but I would love if you stayed until I was done. I'd like to talk to you some more."

She didn't wait for him to confirm or deny her request, but simply turned on her heel and walked back to her position at the bar. He didn't even really make a conscious choice either way, but as the evening wore on, he felt no need to leave, and eventually he was the last one in the bar, watching as she moved around at an amazingly fast speed. She was cleaning with the ease and specific routine of someone who had been doing the same thing for years, almost without thinking about it. He just sat and watched, and eventually Laurel came and sat down across the table from him, throwing her canvas shoe clad feet up on the chair next to her, sighing deeply and rolling her shoulders.

"My feet are killing me. Serves me right for not getting good shoes," she examined her feet critically.

Bucky didn't quite know how to respond, so he settled for just nodding. They sat in uncomfortable silence for a while until her stomach growled and broke the silence. She blushed when Bucky shot her a quizzical glance and said, "I haven't eaten since Thursday."

Bucky frowned at that. She needed to eat if she was still recovering from her injuries, and her clothes looked like they were swallowing her up. "You need to eat. Especially after last night."

Her brown eyes narrowed at him and then she nodded and stood. "Let's go then."

"Go where exactly?" Even as he asked that, he was standing up and pulling his backpack onto his shoulders.

"To eat," she smiled and walked over to the bar to retrieve a phone and a set of keys from underneath. Bucky scoffed inwardly at the sight of a small Captain America's shield keychain dangling from her keys. They walked out of the bar and Laurel locked the door while Bucky kept an eye on the street. It was almost 3 am and the streets were deserted, dimly illuminated by the street lamps. Bucky's guard immediately went up and his shoulders tensed. His hand slid into his pocket and fingered his handgun. Laurel didn't seem to notice, and after glancing over her shoulder to make sure he was following her, started down the street towards the 24 hour diner that was down the block. The neon sign was partially out and the window was dingy. Bucky was noting the building and calculating escape routes in case of an emergency when Laurel started talking.

"I know that it doesn't look like much, but their burgers and waffle fries are awesome." She pushed the door open and the bell that hung above it tinkled. There were 2 people in the restaurant, a cook and a waitress. They both greeted Laurel warmly and Bucky watched with some interest as they interacted.

"What do you want to eat?"

Bucky had no idea, so he just replied, "Whatever you're having is fine."

Laurel smiled and then turned to the waitress. "Mary, could we have two bacon cheeseburgers and a basket of fries to share please? And two slices of pie for dessert. Thank you."

She led him over to a booth and sat down. Luckily she had taken the seat with her back to the door so Bucky didn't have to ask her to switch. He slid into the seat cautiously and stared at the girl sitting across from him. He was still trying to access who she was. He did not feel threatened by her, but he wasn't sure about anything else. It was one of the first times he wasn't able to assess a person's character just by looking at them, and that was both frustrating and intriguing. Unknowns were something that the Asset did not handle well, but there was no present threat to his life, as far as he could tell, so he remained.

The waitress Mary came back with 3 steaming baskets on a tray. She set the burger down in front of Bucky and said, "Here you go handsome," with a smile. He didn't even acknowledge her, his attention focused on the steaming burger that was sitting in front of him. It was one of the first hot meals that he had in the last few years, mostly surviving off of lukewarm foods from a can. The smell was making his mouth water like crazy and his fingers twitched.

"It's not poisoned you know," Laurel's voice broke through his stupor and he glanced up to see a small smile on her face. He tried to reciprocate with his own, but it had been too long so he settled on shrugging and taking a bite of the food. The tastes trickled over his tongue and he sighed. Laurel chuckled and she also bit into her burger, chewing a lot slower than Bucky was. Bucky barely took a breath in between bites. Laurel pushed the basket of fries towards him and he took one, savoring the salty taste and the texture before shoving 3 more in his mouth at the same time. He polished off the fries in what felt like a few seconds. Laurel wordlessly pushed her partially eaten burger towards Bucky and he grabbed it without thinking, eating the second burger without any comment. It wasn't until he had finally swallowed the last bite that he realized she had just given him her first meal since Thursday, and an overwhelming sense of guilt overtook him.

"I'm sorry." He shrugged his shoulders awkwardly, trying to work through the guilt.

She smiled at him, "For what? Being hungry? You don't need to feel guilty for that." She laid her hand on the table, like she was going to grab her hand but had changed her mind at the last minute. Bucky relaxed, but still frowned and opened his mouth to argue. His retort was cut off when Mary returned with two plates, setting the plate in front of him and returning to the kitchen again. His attention was diverted to the food in front of him once again, staring at the piece of pie. The smell was enough to bring a string of memories to the front of his brain, ones of his mom baking in their tiny apartment during the fall, leaving the pie on the windowsill to cool off, then yelling at his sisters when they would sneak pieces of the crust. He didn't even realize he was trembling until a napkin obscured his view and he looked up to see Laurel holding it out.

"Are you okay?" Her concern was a foreign concept to him and he nodded, slightly in shock. "Yeah, just reminded me of my mother." She seemed like she understood and then they ate their pie in silence, enjoying the taste of cinnamon and apples and reminiscing.

Laurel paid and they exited the restaurant onto the empty street. Bucky's full stomach was sending him into a sleepy stupor, but the thought of sleeping another night in a parking garage made his stomach turn. They walked back towards the bar, with Laurel leading the way. She stopped at the door next to the bar and turned, giving him a calculated look. "Do you want to sleep on my couch tonight? I can tell you need somewhere to stay."

"How did you know that?" His hand automatically went to his handgun and he tensed. "Because I was in your place at one point, I know a kindred spirit when I see one." She shrugged her thin shoulders casually.

He said, "I don't want to intrude." Even if the thought of heat and a roof was incredibly tempting. She unlocked the door, "How about just one night then? It's temporary." Bucky paused, and after a momentary internal debate, followed her up the creaky stairs and into a tiny apartment, where she pointed the couch out to him and he fell onto it, turning over once and falling asleep almost immediately.

 _ **Chapter 3 is up! Sorry for the delay, I was moving into school and things got a bit hectic. If you like it, let me know by reviewing or favoriting! I love reading the comments, they make me feel really special :) Thanks again!**_

 _ **kath**_


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 3- Empty Cupboards

Laurel sat cross-legged on her bed, staring at the closed door anxiously. Offering her couch was an impulsive decision that she was trying not to panic over. She hadn't even meant to do anything beyond buying James dinner, but something about his reactions to the food had changed her mind subconsciously, especially to the apple pie. He looked like he had been paralyzed, with wide, unfocused eyes that were clearly seeing something else. Laurel had pulled him out of the trance he was in and he had looked at her with eyes that had enough torment in them to throw her for a loop and give her a reason to invite him to stay.

There was no movement or sounds from the tiny living room, so Laurel eased her way down to a laying position and drifted off into an uneasy sleep. Some hours later, she woke up with a start when she heard a thump outside. Grabbing the pepper spray she had in her bedside table, she silently stalked to the door and gently opened it a crack. The street lights were shining dimly through her windows and she could dimly see the scene in from of her. James was lying on the floor, seemingly still asleep even though he fell from the couch. Laurel relaxed and went to turn around to go back to bed, but then a groan rose up from behind her and she paused. James must have been having a nightmare, because he was tossing in his sleep and he sounded upset. He was muttering something unintelligible and Laurel frowned, then went into her room for a moment. She grabbed her battered quilt off of her bed and returned to the living room quietly, trying not to wake James up. He had quieted down, but was still sleeping uneasily with a frown on his face.

Laurel laid the blanket over his sleeping form gently, trying not to wake him up, but it didn't work. James's blue eyes flew open and he grabbed her wrist, and twisted her arm, flipping her over and she landed on her back, the air escaping her lungs in a gasp. James had flipped his body over hers and his hand was resting on her throat. Trying to breath, Laurel started struggling with panic, but when she saw his vacant and expressionless eyes, she forced herself to calm down. "James, it's me. I'm not going to hurt you." What she said must have worked, because the pressure on her throat eased slowly, and then James flopped over and laid back down on the floor without saying a word. Laurel breathed a sigh of relief and slowly stood, massaging her throat and she leaned down, fixing the blanket over him once again. This time he pulled the blanket closer to his body and turned over, sinking back into a fitful sleep.

Laurel walked back to her room unsteadily, trying to fight the urge to cry. She understood that it was partially her fault he had done that, because even she was smart enough not to disturb someone with a nightmare. But there was something about his eyes that had shaken her core. They were haunting and full of painful experiences that Laurel wasn't sure she wanted to know about. She laid back down in bed, pulling her sheet up over her aching body and slowly relaxing. Laurel knew immediately that she wouldn't bring it up with James, as he seemed too burdened already with his other secrets and she didn't want to add to that. Setting her alarm for 9 am, she drifted off into her own uneasy sleep.

Laurel woke with a start at the beeping of the alarm clock. She rolled over and shut it off, and then pulling on a sweatshirt that she needed to roll the sleeves 3 times just to free her hands, quietly left the room and padded barefoot to the kitchen for some coffee. Pulling open the cupboards, she surveyed the depressing contents. There was a canister of coffee, a roll of saltine crackers, and a can of peaches. She quickly did the same for the fridge, but there was even less food there, and most of it was moldy. Luckily she had some eggs that hadn't gone bad. She started the coffee machine and waited, the aroma slowly filling the living area. There was a stirring from the floor by the couch and James's bulky frame rose up and walked over to join her. "Good morning." His voice was raspy from sleep and his hair was knotted.

"Good morning James. Did you sleep okay?" Her fingers twitched slightly despite her attempts to calm her inner nervousness.

"Better than I have recently. Thank you for the blanket." Thankfully he didn't give any indication that he remembered the events from the night before. Laurel noted that he had kept all his clothes on, even his leather gloves. That was strange to her, but she didn't bother asking and simply smiled and said, "It's no problem, sorry I forgot to give you one earlier."

He shook his head and gave her one of the first smiles she had seen from him. It seemed small and a bit forced, but it made him seem more alive. She shook herself slightly, realizing that she had been staring and said, "Would you like to take a shower? I think there's a fresh towel in the bathroom plus soap. I can't promise warm water or good water pressure, but it does the job well enough. I can throw your clothes in the load of laundry I was planning on doing today anyway."

He hesitated, then nodded his head quickly. She showed him the bathroom and then said, "I'll wait outside and you can just hand me your clothes through the door. Sound good?"

"Yes, thank you Laurel." He closed the door behind him and she stood outside the door and waited until he opened the door and handed a pile of dark clothes through a crack. She thought that she saw a metallic flash out of the corner of her eye on the other side of the door, but she couldn't figure out what it could be. There were several moments of silence before the water started running and Laurel nodded to herself. She grabbed the cloth bag that she brought with her to the laundromat and stuffed the fabric into the bag. There were probably some of her clothes that would fit James, plus she had a box of clothes that her last boyfriend left at her place that she had never gotten around to donating. Rummaging through the box, she was able to procure a pair of black sweatpants and a plain t-shirt for him. She even managed to find a clean pair of boxers that she normally wore for pajamas. Returning over to the door and not hearing the water running, she knocked softly, but there was no response. There was a clatter from inside and a grunt and Laurel, panicking, burst into the room to a strange sight. James was thankfully covered with a towel around his waist, and the clatter was a bottle of soap that had gotten knocked off the counter into the shower. But Laurel's attention was transfixed on the shining metal arm that was attached to James's body. It was beautiful, and completely strange. The panels flexed and moved like real muscles, and had a full range of movement that would have come from a real arm. There was a red star emblazoned on the shoulder and it stood out in stark contrast to the shining metal. There was a mess of scar tissue on the chest surrounding it, and Laurel started to feel nauseous.

"What the hell are you doing in here?" James asked, his eyes boring into hers through a mess of tangled hair. There was so much fire in his gaze that she was taken aback and shuffled backwards a few steps.

"I just wanted to-to… make sure you were okay?" It came out sounding like a question and she shook herself. "I brought you some clothes." She held them out like a peace offering. He took them and then stood there staring at her until she made some stammering excuses and backed out of the door, shutting it behind her. A feeling of guilt overwhelmed her. She had just invaded the privacy of someone who was clearly incredibly private, and she knew exactly how awful that felt. She sat, staring out of the window until the door opened behind her and James emerged. The shirt was too tight and the pants were too short, but they were significantly cleaner than her older clothes and he didn't seem to mind.

He walked forward until he was standing right in front of her and they stood awkwardly until Laurel blurted out, "I'm so sorry. I thought you were hurt and I just wanted to make sure…" A look that Laurel couldn't quite decipher crossed into his startling blue eyes and then he nodded. "It's okay." At that, Laurel frowned, but then paused and said, "Your arm is beautiful." She wasn't sure what had possessed her to say that, but it was truly what she thought. At that his expression dropped and he shook his head, "It's not." It clearly was something that he wasn't willing to get into, so Laurel let it go and turned around towards the kitchen. She pulled a pan out from the cupboard and grabbing two eggs from the carton, she cracked them open and started frying them. James, seemingly unsure what to do, hovered awkwardly around the counter. "Do you want to turn on some music or something?" Laurel asked.

"How and where do I do that?" He was staring at the small CD player that she had plugged in like it was from another planet. She chuckled and then reached over and hit the play button. One of the only CD's she owned, a Louis Armstrong album, started and filled the room. "Oh, I know this!" James sounded pleasantly surprised and he smiled at Laurel, the first real smile that she had seen, and she loved it. His eyes crinkled up at the corners and it was contagious. Laurel smiled back at him.

Laurel hummed along and did a shuffling dance in front of the stove. She grabbed a plate and slid the eggs onto them. Turning around, she came face to face with a smirking James and she blushed. "Shut up and eat up." Laurel rolled her eyes and set the food down on the counter. "What about you? You need to eat too," he said sitting at the counter like he was told. "Um, I'm okay," she hedged. In truth, she was pretty hungry, but she had used all of her eggs feeding James. He clearly didn't believe her and he slid the plate towards her. She scrunched up her nose and finally, grabbing two forks and another plate, split the eggs in half. They sat together and ate the eggs, listening as Louis's trumpet played La Vie en Rose. Suddenly James dropped his fork and started trembling, much like he had done before. Laurel kept eating, but kept a wary eye on James and eventually his shivers subsided and he looked up with haunted eyes that made her own tear up slightly. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah the music just reminded me of something." He took a shaky breath and ran his human hand over his face.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she didn't know what he would say, so she wasn't overly surprised when he said, "Not yet."

"Okay, that's okay." And they let music fill the silence. Laurel was okay with having questions with James for now, but that would only last so long. Eventually they needed to be answered. She scraped her plate off and then turned to James, "Want to do some laundry?"

 _ **Chapter 4 is up, and I would love to know what everything thinks! If you have any suggestions let me know! Favorite and follow! Thank you so much!**_

 _ **kath**_


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER 5- Reese's

Laurel led a very tense James by the hand into the EZ-Laundromat a few blocks from her apartment. It had taken a long time to get him out of the house. She had found a sweatshirt that fit him and given him his gloves to cover his hands as he requested, but he still seemed very hesitant to go. Laurel had tried suggesting that he stay at her place and she could go alone, but that was an even worse suggestion for him apparently. He had frowned deeply when she had said that and moved even closer to her, almost protectively. Laurel rolled her eyes at that, trying to ignore the annoying flutter in her stomach at the fact that he was worried about her.

She walked over and retrieved her overstuffed laundry bag from the closet that she stored it in. "James, I will be okay. I'm an adult who also happens to have pepper spray. Plus, it's like 1 in the afternoon, so no one is going to be out anyway." She slid on her tennis shoes that didn't have blood on them and grabbed her keys from the bowl on the counter. She turned to leave and there was James, standing in the doorway with clenched fists and a determined look in his eyes. She sighed and said, "You really don't have to come-"

"Let's go." He said stubbornly, meeting her brown eyes with his blue. Laurel studied him, and realizing that it was pointless to argue, nodded and led him back down the stairs. They stepped into the crisp air and Laurel started walking down the street, away from the Red Lantern. Laurel could feel the waves of tension coming off James his shoulders were tense and his jaw was set tightly. Without really considering what she was doing, Laurel reached over and instinctively gripped his hand. The leather was smooth and worn, warm from the hand that was underneath it. James tensed and he froze for a moment and Laurel panicked for a second, worried she had overstepped his carefully drawn boundaries. Then he relaxed and gripped her hand even tighter. The tension that she was feeling had decreased somewhat, but he was obviously still on edge. She glanced up at his face and watched his eyes flick around the street, calculating and watchful. There wasn't much activity, just a few couples and families scattered around the stores that lined the street. She could see James analyzing and she wondered privately why he was like that.

She pushed her way into the laundromat and located an empty washing machine. There were only 2 other people in the building, which was lucky for Laurel, the laundry would take less time. She started separating the lights from the darks quickly. James was still standing close to her, staring at the shining machines in a dazed way. "Did you want to help? You can just start the machine next to me."

James nodded and grabbed the clothes that she handed him. Laurel threw her clothes into the washing machine and pushed a few quarters into the slot, just like she always did every Sunday. Starting the washer, she rotated to her left and saw James, frowning in concentration at the machine. He was trying to push the button to start the washer without grabbing a few quarters from the bag on the top of the washer. He grunted in frustration and slammed his metal fist down on the washer and it dented, even though James had done it with what didn't look like very much effort. Laurel jumped and hurried to intervene, "Here, let me help."

"No I don't-" He started, but Laurel cut him off with a frown.

"There's nothing wrong with needing help James. Everyone does. And I'm here to help you from now on." She nudged his strong body out of the way and inserted the quarters, then pushed the start button. Turning around, she was confronted with a sullen James. "Don't pout. Now you know how to start the washing machine for next time. And then you don't have to break it."

His eyebrows furrowed stubbornly, "I wasn't pouting." Laurel rolled her eyes, "Yes you were, but don't worry, I forgive you." His face broke into a reluctant smile and she returned it, and they stood there grinning at each other in what Laurel thought was a mildly idiotic way until she broke the eye contact and turned away. He broke the silence, "So what do we do now?" Rubbing her hands together she walked over to the ancient vending machine and pulled out a few crumpled dollar bills from her back pocket that she had left over from her last shift at work. "Well, we wait. What kind of candy would you like?"

"I have no idea. I've never had any," he shrugged and Laurel's mouth dropped. "What? All right, now I know exactly what we can do while we wait."

She bought one of each kind, and for the next 45 minutes, they split them all and compared them. Laurel learned that James didn't like almonds from his scrunched faced reaction to the Almond Joy, and his reaction to the gritty Butterfinger filling was hilarious. He was picking at his teeth for upwards of 5 minutes. By far his favorite was the Reese's Peanut Butter cups. After taking one bite, he stuffed the rest into his mouth and said, "This is amazing," with a full mouth. Laurel chuckled and handed the other one to him. He ate the other one too, just as fast. They sat and munched on the candy for a while until Laurel shifted and said, "So did you decide on a favorite?" He nodded, "It was obviously the Rice's Peanut Butter Cup." Laurel laughed and she said, "Reese's. Not Rice's."

There was a smile in his eyes and she stood, moving over to the vending machine and buying two more Reese's. She crossed back to the washing machines and as she passed, she threw the candy into his lap. His eyes lit up and he tore into the next package happily. Laurel took the clothes out of the washing machine and she threw them into to the dryer. She pushed the start button, and then stood up and stretched, arching her back. She was still pretty sore from her incident with James this morning but she was trying not to show it. Turning around, she jumped when she found that James had snuck up behind her silently and was now standing in her personal space, staring at her with unreadable eyes. "What? Is everything okay?" Laurel asked uncertainly and there was a moment of hesitation before he said, "Thank you," and he wrapped his arms around her skinny frame and hugged her. Laurel stiffened uncertainly and then slowly wrapped her arms around his waist, trying to ignore the fact that his muscular chest was pressed up against her body and felt warm and strong and comforting. He smelled like her lemon scented body wash and she smiled into his chest. Laurel closed her eyes and fought a sudden wave of emotion that was overwhelming her. This was such a different touch than the morning and it helped eased her anxiousness about what had happened.

She pulled away and looked up at him. She was a lot shorter than he was, and she had to look up to meet his eyes. They were still far too close for a normal conversation, but she ignored that and asked, "What was that for?"

"It's been a while since someone has done something like that for me. That's something I'll remember for as long as I can." He smiled down at her with sad eyes and Laurel returned it, then shook herself and turned away, trying to clear the haze that he created in her head that was threatening to overwhelm her senses. She walked back over to the rickety bench that they were sitting on and took a deep breath, clearing her mind and mulling over the strange way he had thanked her.

* * *

The last of the laundry was clean and neatly folded by James, including his clothes that he had given her. Stuffing the last of the clothes into the laundry bag, James slung the bag over his broad shoulders and looked toward Laurel, who was sitting on the dryer next to him. She smiled, and then checking her watch she realized that she only had 20 minutes before she had to stop back at the back and restock the shelves, as well as clean the entire bar. The Red Lantern was closed on Sundays, as the result of a personal choice by Richard that Laurel usually used to catch up on the sleeping and eating she had missed out on during the week. But she always had to come in and prepare for the next day, which was a personal dilemma for her because she got paid but it was harder to haul herself down the stairs to go work when she was in the middle of eating a frozen pizza and watching 80's movies.

"Crap." James looked over with a concerned expression and asked, "What's wrong?" She jumped off the dryer and started towards the door. "I have to go to work." They exited the building and James scratched the back of his head nervously awkwardly. "Okay, well it's probably time for me to take off now anyway. I've overstayed my welcome." Laurel stopped abruptly and James was forced to turn to look at her. "Are you kidding? That's not what I was saying at all! I was actually going to ask you to come with me. There are a few things I could use those ridiculously hot arm muscles for." As soon as she said that, her face turned bright red and she swallowed hard, trying to forget what she had just blurted out. However, from the look on his face he wasn't going to anytime soon. The smirk was annoying sexy and when Laurel realized that her voice wasn't going to cooperate anytime in the near future, she settled for huffing and walking back down the street. It only took a few seconds until his footsteps were close behind her and he matched his stride with hers, which Laurel realized was probably a decrease in pace for him because of their height difference. He silently took her hand in his again and she smiled inwardly, but made no comment and together they walked toward the Red Lantern.

They entered the bar and Laurel got to work with the same routine that she always did, but she put James to work lifting the chairs off the floor onto the high bar and carrying the cases of beer from the storage room to the cooler. Laurel moved around him, mopping the floor and wiping the bar off with sanitizer. The two of them made quick work of the whole place and Laurel was pleased to discover the job that usually took her 2 hours to complete all by herself was done in about 45 minutes. She watched as James came in carrying a case that she normally found extremely heavy with little to no effort. His arms were taut and the sleeves of the shirt were cutting into his massive biceps. He set the case onto the bar with a clatter and Laurel jumped out of her reverie. "Okay! All done?" He turned to look at the cases of alcohol he had brought out. "I think so. I grabbed all the ones you pointed out to me." He turned and said, "So what now?"

They walked out of the bar and Laurel said, "Well, how does a pizza and a John Hughes movie sound?" Taking the key out of the lock, Laurel turned to him uncertainly and he said, "I don't know who that is, was he an actor?" She blinked in surprise and said, "No, a director. What's your favorite movie? We could watch that." She watched him close his eyes, as if he was trying very hard to remember, and then just like earlier in the day, he began shaking. Laurel put an arm around his waist and carefully led him up the stairs to the apartment. She sat them down on the couch and waited until the shaking subsided. He looked up at her with tears in his eyes and Laurel's heart felt like it was getting squeezed in a vise. He took a shaky inhale and said, "Gone with the Wind. That's my favorite movie." Laurel nodded silently in response and the stood and turned the TV on. She pulled her DVD case from under the couch and silently prayed that she had kept the DVD that she had received as a gift from her mother. She breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of the slightly battered DVD and slid it into the player, then pressed play. Returning to the couch, she draped a blanket over their legs and then carefully placed her head on his strong shoulder, then silently let the movie transport the tortured man to another, happier time.

 _ **All right, that's Chapter 5! I promise that it will get more exciting in the next chapter, but I wanted to establish them together first. If you liked it, favorite/follow! If you have any suggestions on the characters or any feedback, I would absolutely love to hear it! Thank you all so much for reading!**_

 _ **kath**_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6- Leaky Sinks and Coffee

 **Bucky POV**

Bucky knew he was being selfish, staring at the now familiar figures that moved across the screen. He knew he longer that he stayed, the more danger that she was in. But even one day with her had triggered more memories than the last month, and he was desperate for more pieces of his old self. Trying to assuage his guilt was pointless, just like it always was, so he shook himself and regaled himself to watch the movie on the small television. Laurel's head rested heavy on his shoulder and he was torn between moving her head off and putting his arm around her shoulders. Eventually he just left his arm where it was and half focused on the movie. He decided that he would stay a week at the very most, if she even wanted him around for that long. Her offer of a place to stay was a blessing in disguise, and he even got clean clothes in addition.

Laurel's slow, deep breathing alerted him to the fact that she was fast asleep, her head still resting heavily on his shoulder. He carefully shifted her skinny body to his arms and lifted her with ease. He frowned to himself, she really was too skinny for her own good. Bucky couldn't believe that she had enough muscle mass to knock the creep out from a few days ago. Walking over to her door, he pushed it open with his foot and surveyed the tiny room. It was only big enough for a bed and a nightstand, and he realized with a start that the blanket he had woken up to find placed over him was the only one she had. He frowned. If anyone didn't deserve any kindness it was him, and the fact that she didn't realize that made him even more anxious. He set her down on the bed as gently as he could, but she still shifted in her sleep with a frown marring her face.

Bucky shuffled awkwardly, feeling incredibly out of his element. He was used to seeing people at their most vulnerable, but somehow Laurel was different. He had stared at countless people down the barrel of a gun, watching as they had pleaded with him, and it didn't bother him until he had regained control of his mind and body. But this, this was a completely different kind of vulnerable. The sprinkling of freckles made her look younger than she was, and she looked less exhausted when she was sleeping. Bucky decided that she was one of the most beautiful people he had ever seen, but that was the only thing he allowed himself to think. Thinking like this was dangerous. Finally, Bucky turned and slid silently out of the room, closing the door with a quiet click.

He traversed around the room, locking the windows and doors and closing the curtains. He had already done a reconnaissance of the surrounding area, and relaxed a little when he realized that there were no other access points to the apartment as it was the highest building on the street. He slid onto the couch and tried to relax and sleep, but his mind kept drifting to Laurel. The couch was so far away that if she needed help it would take him approximately 3.4 seconds to get there, that was if he even heard it. That idea tortured him and kept him awake until finally he grabbed the blanket and pillow from the couch and laid them down in front of her door then settled down himself. He was finally able to sink into a fitful sleep, which was still an improvement from practically no sleep of a week ago.

* * *

Bucky woke up suddenly when the door next to him opened and Laurel stepped on his chest. She squeaked in fright and jumped backwards. "Oh my god James! I am so sorry. Wait, why are you sleeping outside my door?" Trying not to focus on how short her shorts were or how good his name sounded when she said it, Bucky shook his head to clear it and replied "I was worried about you." Laurel stared at him for a second and then nodded. "Okay James." He appreciated the fact that rather than ask questions like any sane person would, she just let him have secrets, even if that made her completely insane by default. It gave him a sense of privacy that he hadn't had in forever. Laurel stepped over him hesitantly and made her way over to the kitchen. Bucky watched as she reached for the coffee canister on a high shelf, stretching onto her tiptoes to get it. He had to physically shift his body to avoid looking at her long legs and the curve of her ass. "Do you want some coffee?" Her voice floated over and Bucky looked back over to see her holding the coffee out questioningly. Bucky nodded, simply because it seemed rude to refuse. She smiled at that and started to make the pot of coffee. Bucky let his shoulders relax as the warm smell filled the tiny apartment and Laurel went around and opened the curtains, letting the warm light fall on the battered wood floor and lighten the apartment.

Bucky's eyes wandered around the apartment, taking in the peeling paint and the sink in the bathroom that was dripping. "I can fix that," he blurted, pointing to the offending porcelain object. Laurel looked over with raised eyebrows. "Really? You know how to fix that? That would be awesome!" As she was speaking, a memory came crashing over Bucky like a tidal wave. His apartment in Brooklyn had a busted tap, and his mother had sent him to fix the thing before the whole building flooded. He and Steve had worked on the thing for 2 days, but it had never broke again. Shaking his head furiously, Bucky came back into his body to find a concerned pair of brown eyes staring at him. Laurel just gave him a hug, which made Bucky stiffen momentarily, but it was over by the time it began. "You know you can always talk to me. I'm a good listener." She handed him a steaming mug of coffee, which he took robotically, staring at the brown liquid. "I'll fix your sink for you." That's all he said, but Laurel seemed to understand and stood, walking to grab her own mug. "Well that would be amazing. I can get the parts for you. I have to go grocery shopping before work tonight anyway. You can just write a list of the stuff you need. Do you want to take a look at it now?"

She turned and walked into the bathroom without waiting for an answer. Bucky nodded and sipped his coffee then stood and walked into the bathroom. It was tiny and could barely fit the two of them together. "Okay, so the pipes and all that shit is under the sink, you just open these doors," she instructed. "I'm going to write a grocery list now, so you can just tell me the supplies when you're done looking at it." Bucky nodded at her and she smiled, then turned to exit the bathroom. Suddenly Bucky was all too aware of close they were together. They were quite literally chest to chest, although their height difference made it so Bucky's nose was practically in her hair. The air seemed like it had been sucked out of the room and he could hear Laurel take a shaky exhale. They stood there silently for a few long moments, just looking at each other and breathing quietly. Then Bucky remembered himself and who he was, shaking his head slightly. That broke the spell for them both and Laurel started apologizing profusely, squeezing past him and out into the kitchen, leaving him alone and feeling colder than usual.

He had figured out the problem quickly enough, and pretty soon Laurel had left the house with a completed list, practically forcing him to stay in the apartment. It made Bucky nervous to think of her going alone, but when he had suggested he come along she shook her head vigorously, insisting that she could get it done faster by herself. Bucky privately suspected that after the bathroom fiasco, she needed to clear her head, and he understood. The tension, whether it was good or bad, was there and it was thick. Laurel had tried her hardest to seem normal, but Bucky saw right through it. He could tell that she wasn't caught off guard like that very often, and so he let her go. In the meantime, he was wandering around her apartment, blatantly snooping. He left her room alone, feeling like it was too private, but he rifled through her small CD collection and the movie collection. He only recognized one other title, the Wizard of Oz in her stack. He noted the lack of any personal photos on the walls, or any decoration really. Her apartment was as basic as possible, and it felt deliberate, like she could pack up and leave at any time without too much trouble.

A jangling on the other side of the door alerted him to another presence and he tensed, his muscles coiling for an attack automatically. Suddenly Laurel staggered in, carrying several overstuffed bags of food in. Bucky walked over to help and she handed him a few of the biggest bags with a grimace. Bucky smirked and said, "I told you that you should have let me come with you." Laurel rolled her eyes. "Shut up. This is good exercise or something." The tension that was there previously had disappeared and Bucky relaxed slightly. "Did you get what I needed?" He held his metal hand out without thinking and flinched when Laurel's gaze was drawn downwards. She didn't even looked fazed, but simply rifled through her bag for a moment until she pulled out a smaller brown paper bag and handed it over. "It's all there Sarge." She smirked but Bucky stood frozen. "What did you call me?" His voice came out in a hoarse whisper but Laurel didn't seem to notice. "Sarge. Like an Army Sergeant? I don't know, that's what my dad called me some- are you okay?" Bucky snapped out of the trance he was in and stared at her. "I was also a sergeant," slipped out of his mouth before he could stop it and Laurel's eyes widened imperceptibly. "Well, thank you very much for your service." She smiled at him and he nodded, then turned and made his way into the bathroom, his mind still reeling. He consoled himself with the fact that she still didn't know who he was, but now she knew a part of his past that he hadn't planned on revealing.

Trying to focus on something else to calm himself, he started in on the sink with an intensity that was probably a little too much for his current task. He had to keep brushing his tangled hair out of his face, which grew to be an incredible nuisance. Just when he was about to lose his cool, Laurel appeared in the doorway holding a black elastic hair tie in her hand. "Do you want some help?" She offered, holding the band up. Bucky nodded silently and Laurel slipped behind him, then carefully gathered as much as she could off of the top and pulled it into a bun at the top of his head. "There." She gave him a small smile and then left the room quietly, and Bucky got back to work.

He was almost done replacing the tap when Laurel poked her head into the bathroom and said, "I have to go to work okay? I should be back around 4. I made dinner for you." Bucky paused and looked up. "What about you, did you eat?" Laurel waved her hand dismissively and Bucky frowned. "You need to eat Laurel." She just smiled at him and left, ignoring his instructions and leaving him alone with the sink. Eventually the smells of the food and the thought that she wasn't eating any drove Bucky to the point where he made a plate of spaghetti and carried it down the stairs with the intent that he would stand over her and watch her eat it. He walked the short distance to the bar's entrance and froze when he looked into the window and saw Laurel talking with the one person that made his stomach drop. Steve Rodgers.

 _ **Hello, here's chapter 6! Sorry that the wait was a bit longer, I had a stressful week at school. I had a question about the timeline. This story takes place after The Winter Soldier. Sorry if that was confusing anyone. If anyone has any suggestions about characters or anything really, I would love to hear it! I love getting feedback! Favorite and follow! Thank you!**_

 _ **kath**_


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7- Steve

Laurel was trying to focus on the bar, but her senses were swarming with James and frankly she was getting rather irritated with her weakness for the blue-eyed man. She prided herself on being a good judge of character, but despite the fact that all of her instincts were indicating that James had way more issues than a healthy person should she was constantly feeling him invade her senses and encouraging her to ignore her doubts. Brushing a curl back impatiently, Laurel shook herself and turned back to the next patron. He was a tall handsome man with a classic, apple-pie look that Laurel had never found that alluring, but this guy pulled it off. She absently noted that he was about the same height as James, with the same if not more of a muscular build to him. She smiled politely and asked, "What can I get for you?" The man smiled at her, and said, "Do you have any water?" Laurel snorted and said, "I mean, I do, but you could get it cheaper a lot of other places. Not that I'm going to refuse your business, but you should know you're screwing yourself." Blondie laughed to himself and scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'm not much of a drinker," he smiled at her and she returned it while grabbing a glass from under the counter and filling it with ice and the cold liquid. She stuck a straw and slid the glass over to him, saying, "So why are you here?"

He took a drink of the water and looked at her appraisingly saying, "I'm looking for someone." For a brief second, Laurel's mind flew to James, but she dismissed that almost immediately because that was ridiculous. James didn't really seem like he had anyone looking for him, she mused. "Oh yeah?" she arched an eyebrow in question. "Who would that be?" The man standing in front of her paused and said, "Well, I can't actually tell you that."

Laurel smirked, "Oh, so it's a special lady?" The man laughed at that and said, "No, more like an old friend. Someone said they had seen him here."

Laurel nodded and said, "Well, I hope you find them. Let me know if you want to waste any more money on water okay?" She smiled at him and he returned it. She opened her mouth to reply when she saw a familiar broad-shouldered shape standing out on the dark street, but when she turned to look, there was no one there. The blonde guy turned to look where she was looking and Laurel quickly cleared her throat, trying to get his attention back to her.

"Just let me know if you need anything else okay?" He nodded and then walked down the bar a bit to sit at an empty stool. Laurel watched him carefully, and noted his wandering eyes and tense posture. He was still looking for his friend. Laurel stopped paying close attention to him after that, as the bar grew busier as the might wore on. Occasionally she would notice his blue eyes looking in her direction, but he would look the other direction as soon as she glanced his way. He was not the most subtle but Laurel had enough experience with staring and creepy people to tell it was a different kind of observation. One of casual curiosity with something lingering underneath, something that was a bit more intense.

At the end of the night, Laurel was locking the cash register when she felt a presence standing over her. Glancing upwards, her eyes met the eyes of the man from earlier. "Can I help you?"

He smiled and said, "I should probably introduce myself. I'm Steve." Here he paused and searched her face, maybe looking for a flicker of recognition, but the name wasn't ringing any bells for Laurel and she simply nodded at him to continue. "I told you I was looking for a friend, and I was wondering if you would let me know if you saw him."

Laurel raised an eyebrow and shrugged, "Why should I? How do you know he'll show up here?"

Steve slid a small rectangle of paper over to her and Laurel picked it up, examining it. There was a small, plain, black set of numbers and she set it back down, shaking her head. "I'm not spying for you. Plus I don't even know who to look for or why."

Steve placed a hand over hers, which was still covering the card on the bar. "I can't tell you everything, but I really need you to listen. The guy we're looking for is in trouble with some pretty bad people, and we need to find them before they do. We have been trying to track his movements, and it's been hard, but we think that he'll end up here. He has some history here in this area."

Laurel arched an eyebrow and said, "Then if you know he's going to be here, why don't you just wait, or come back? I'm sorry, but I'm not going to get involved in your super-spy assassin or whatever this bullshit is. I'm just trying to survive and that really doesn't seem like the way to do it."

Steve hesitated but then nodded. "Okay. Well thank you anyway. Maybe I'll see you around sometime." Then he stuck his hands in his vintage leather motorcycle jacket and turned away to leave. Laurel watched him leave, and then glanced down at the bar and noticed that the white card still resided on the dented wood. Absentmindedly slipping the card into the pocket of her sweatshirt, she grabbed her keys and left the bar, carefully locking the door behind her.

Turning toward her apartment, she walked the few feet to her door and entered the stairwell. A dim flickering alerted her to the fact that the lightbulb was on its last leg and she was about to be plunged into perpetual darkness, as she already knew she would never get around to fixing it. Laurel was so preoccupied with watching the light flicker that she didn't even see James standing at the top of the stairs until she practically ran into him.

"Jesus Christ! You scared me!" She said, instinctively backing away from him. James looked tense and upset, and Laurel tried to remain calm as memories of his hand around her throat overwhelmed her senses. She took two cautious steps toward him and when he didn't react, her heart rate slowly returned to normal.

"Who was that guy you were talking to earlier?" His voice was low and dark and dangerous, and shivers ran down Laurel's spine.

"I don't know, his name was Steve. Wait, how did you even know that I talked to someone?" Trying to maintain a casual façade, she walked cautiously up the rest of the staircase and edged past him toward the door that stood open a crack. Entering the apartment, she noticed two plates spaghetti sitting on the counter. Temporarily forgetting her confusion in favor of indignation, whirling around angrily she snapped, "How come you didn't eat? I made that food for you!" She stepped back when she found James less than a foot away from her, until the cheap laminate countertop dug into her back. Suddenly it was hard for her to breathe, and meeting the electric blue eyes that were staring at her became increasingly difficult.

"You shouldn't talk to guys like Steve, you could end up getting hurt." Her brown eyes snapped up to meet his and her anger returned.

"Well, he was certainly more open than you're being right now. How did you know I even talked to him?" Laurel tried to push his muscular chest, giving her more room to think, but was fairly unsurprised when he didn't even flinch.

He gestured at the plates of spaghetti with his shining metal hand and said, "I brought one down to you because you forgot to eat, and I saw him. You two were talking."

"Well, yeah, I mean generally when you work with people you have to talk to them. And you should have just brought the plate in, I could have introduced you two." Laurel tried to get a handle on the swooping sensations in her stomach that had made an appearance when James said he was going to bring her food, chalking it up to a sudden hunger. She edged her way over to the plates, and finding them completely cold, carried them over to the microwave and stuck one in to reheat. She glanced over at James and noticed his hands had curled into fists.

"Hey, are you okay?" Laurel switched the plates and handed James the plate and a fork. He took it numbly and sat at the counter, staring blankly ahead.

He started slightly and said, "Yeah, he just reminded me of something from a while ago."

"Well, like I said, I'd be happy to introduce you if you want." James just shook his head vigorously, a few strands of his dark hair falling into his eyes, "I just thought I had more time," he muttered mostly to himself, and Laurel frowned, but chose not to say anything. Her mind went to what Steve had said before and Laurel attempted to push the sudden pit in her stomach aside.

Nodding, Laurel took the other plate of food out of the microwave and sat next to him. James's shining hand was still resting on the table as he voraciously dug into the lukewarm spaghetti and Laurel couldn't help staring at it. The way that the light from the dirty ceiling lamp reflected on the metal was mesmerizing and without really thinking, she was reaching out a hand to run her fingers over the shiny surface. Her fingers had barely brushed the top when the strong fingers clamped like a vise on her thin wrist and flipped her off her stool. Laurel landed on her back with a thud and curled up into a ball when the stool toppled over on top of her, landing right on her stomach. There was a ringing in her ears and for the second time in the span of a few days, she struggled to catch her breath. Dimly she heard James calling her name, but she kept her eyes squeezed shut in a valiant attempt to catch her breath and stave off the effects of the embarrassment that she was feeling.

"Laurel? Oh my god Laurel, are you okay?" She slowly opened up her eyes and was met with a concerned James leaning over her face. She nodded slowly and then tried to get up. James put a hand on her back and Laurel flinched automatically. His hand vanished and he stood, then walked to his backpack and jacket and picked them up. He slid the jacket onto his broad shoulders and swung the backpack up. Laurel watched helplessly from a half-raised position on the floor as he pulled his hood over his head and desperately Laurel whispered, "I'm sorry." She didn't want him to leave. He paused for a split second, but then left anyway, slamming the door behind him and leaving a swallowing silence in his wake.

Laurel spent another 3 minutes on the floor trying to regain her senses, and when she finally stood, she was stuck staring at the door. She knew it would be useless to go after him, but his abrupt departure had left her hurt and sulking. Numbly, she fixed the stool and cleaned the now abandoned dishes, then changed into her pajamas. Brushing her teeth, Laurel pouted at the perfectly working and leak free sink. She slid into bed, even though she wasn't really tired, it just seemed like the thing she should be doing. Eventually her eyes closed and Laurel slipped into some semblance of sleep.

Her door slammed open and Laurel jumped up with a start, clutching the pepper spray that was strategically placed on her bedside table. James strode into the room with a determined and slightly unhinged look in his eye.

"James, what the hell are-?" Laurel's sentence was cut off abruptly when James took her face in his hands and pressed his lips to hers. Laurel's mind shut down and her main awareness was the extreme temperature difference in the hands that were firmly placed on her cheeks and his lips moving against hers. Her entire body was tingling and she was trying not to melt. But as soon as it started, it was over and James pulled away, then ran a shaky hand through his hair. He backed away, his eyes wild and then spinning around on his heel, he left, shutting the door behind him.

Laurel stared at the closed door, listening to the apartment door open and close. Her mind had completely lost the ability to function, and she blankly said the first thing that entered her mind."What the fuck?"

 _ **Hey look, Chapter 7! It's finally here! I have no idea if anyone will even be as excited as I am that it's finally done, but I am very excited. Plus, the romance between Laurel and James is finally getting somewhere. If anyone has any suggestions, comments, or even ways to make the story better I would love to read it! Make sure to favorite and follow! Thank you!**_

 _ **kath**_


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8- A Proposal

Laurel shuffled out of her room the next morning, cranky and exhausted. After James had kissed and then left, Laurel had spent the rest of her night alternating between frowning at the ceiling and at the door. Her thoughts were no clearer than they had been after James left, but she had gotten a lot angrier. She wasn't angry at the kiss, maybe more so that she had let her guard down so easily. There was a magnetism between them that she was desperately trying to ignore. Walking over to the kitchen and pulling the tin of coffee from the cupboard, trying to reduce the amount of movement in her back. Her back and head were aching, but she ignored the pains and continued through her morning routine, taking extra time in the shower to ease the tension she was feeling. Wiping the steam off of the mirror, she attempted to detangle her curls. However, it was a hopeless task and frustrated, she stalked out of the bathroom wrapping her towel tighter around her.

She stuttered to a stop when her eyes landed on a vaguely familiar shape standing in her living room. Trying to swallow the sudden knot of fear that was in her throat, she shifted her weight between her bare feet and tried to maintain a casual air towards the man that was standing in her living room. "Steve? What are you doing here?" The blonde man turned and looked at her, then raised his eyebrow at her appearance. Laurel instinctively wrapped her towel even closer to her body and waited.

"Well, this is slightly awkward." He stuffed his hands into his pockets again.

"Not at all," Laurel replied dryly, "you're just in my apartment, although I'm pretty sure I locked it, after we've only met once. Do you have a reason for being here or are you trying to get arrested?" She inched her hand towards her cell phones usual place on the counter, but stopped when Steve held her battered cell phone up in his hand.

Scowling she gritted her teeth and asked, "So what exactly do you want?" Laurel thought longingly about the pepper spray that was safely tucked into her drawer next to her bed, but there was no way she could make it when she was competing with Steve. The man was built like a tank and Laurel's instincts told her would probably be like fighting one too.

"What happened to your arm? Who did that to you?" Seemingly angry, Steve glanced down at the scabs that were still scattered over her forearm. Laurel shifted her arm inward in a pointless attempt to feel less exposed. Steve's eyes were sharp and probing, even if they weren't looking at her in a lewd way. It felt more like her secrets were seconds away from being exposed.

"Stop avoiding the question. What are you doing here?" She stomped her foot, feeling a little childish but the fact that he wasn't answering her put her even further on edge.

"I'm here to ask you to reconsider. I know you said no, but we really need your help." He put his hands up placatingly, sensing her tension.

Laurel shook her head furiously, feeling the drops of water from her hair hit her bare shoulders. "I'm not going to walk into this mess. I have no idea what you want from me, or how I can help you. I don't even know who you are!" Her eyes darted towards the door, feeling hopelessly caged.

Steve seemed to deflate, but then rolled his shoulders back and looked at her square in the face. "I need to find Bucky." His eyes were desperate and they searched her face rapidly. "I have to. He's all I got."

Laurel sighed. She could feel the tension and honesty in his voice, and she let her posture relax a little. Minutely nodding, she motioned for him to continue. A look of relief flashed in his eyes before he gave her a half smile and said, "You can go put clothes on if you want."

"How do you know I won't leave out of my window?" Laurel raised her eyebrow, even as she was walking towards her bedroom.

"Just hedging my bets. I'll be here when you're ready." Steve sat on her dilapidated couch and folded his hands on his lap. Laurel shut the door behind her, and leaned against the door, breathing heavily. The tension and vulnerability that she had been suppressing, trying to maintain as much control as possible, boiled over and made her lose her breath. She randomly selected clothes and pulled her hair off her shoulders, resigning herself to another few days with tangles. She briefly considered trying to escape from the window, but the drop was too far and something told her that Steve would just catch her.

Cautiously grasping the door handle, she took a deep breath and steeled her nerves, then turned the handle and stepped out into the main room. Steve looked over at her, and Laurel managed to give him a nervous smile.

"Maybe you should sit down," Steve gestured next to him on the couch, but Laurel elected to move across from his place on the couch and slid down the wall, then sat cross legged and stared expectantly.

Steve smirked at her choice in seat, then cleared her throat and said, "Bucky is my -friend- from when we were younger. We grew up together, did everything together. Then he disappeared, for a long time. Recently I saw him again, but it wasn't on the best terms, and now I'm just trying to find him again. He might be in danger."

Laurel raised an eyebrow at the vagueness of his story, and then asked, "If he doesn't want to see you again, why are you trying to save him? Where does my help come in?"

He scrunched his eyes shut momentarily, and then replied, "Because he would have done it for me at one point in our lives, and I'm just trying to return the favor. And as for your help, Bucky is from around this area, and we - I mean I - feel like him coming back here is a high possibility. You would just need to be on the lookout, and then you'd let me know if you saw him."

"Okay, how would I know what to look for?" Laurel was running the scenarios over in her head, trying to consider her options. Steve hadn't given her the impression that he was lying, but the vagueness of his story and the correction of the word 'we' put her on edge.

"I can give you a physical description of him to help. Does this mean you're saying yes?" Steve leaned forward and Laurel nodded quietly. His face lighting up, Steve drew a slip of paper from his brown leather jacket pocket and handed it to her. Laurel took it and unfolded it and suddenly found herself staring at a mugshot of the man that had kissed her and then left not 12 hours before. The eyes of the figure on the paper were hypnotic and Laurel couldn't tear her eyes away. She inhaled sharply and then, remembering who she was with, glanced up to see Steve staring at her. Again, Laurel felt like the secrets that she tried so desperately to keep were being pried out of her and she flicked her eyes back down to the paper.

Feeling trapped, Laurel stood and walked over to the fridge, desperate to give her mind time to collect itself. She numbly pulled out the Tupperware with leftover spaghetti noodles and sauce, putting too much on it and shoving it into the microwave.

"Laurel? Are you okay?" Steve was suddenly right next to her and she jumped again.

"Yes, I am so sorry. He looks like someone I knew from school and it threw me for a loop." She mustered up what she hoped was a convincing smile and the two of them sat staring at each other in silence until the microwave broke the tension with a ding. Laurel turned away and said, "So I'll just use the card to call you if I see him?"

Steve stared at her critically for another few moments before nodding. "Yes, and do it as soon as you see him. The longer we wait, the more danger he's in." Laurel's stomach dropped when she heard that. Despite how confused she was, she knew now that James was danger and that terrified her, but the fact that she was feeling so strongly for a man she essentially didn't know was even scarier. So she settled for nodding mutely and then opening the door for Steve.

He slowly walked past her, then stopped and said, "Be careful okay? Bucky can be a dangerous guy, so just approach him with caution. We'll be in touch."

Laurel attempted to swallow the pit that was stuck in between her throat and her stomach, and then whispered, "Who's more dangerous, him, you or the people coming after him?" Steve just smirked quietly and walked past her, patting her on the shoulder.

A single chill ran down her spine and Laurel shut the door firmly behind her, then slid down to sit on the floor with her head in her hands. The helplessness she had felt when she found Steve in her apartment was nothing compared to how she was feeling now. She pulled the paper from her sweatshirt pocket and unfolded it to examine it again. There was James's face, staring up at her with a dark expression. Written under the picture were three simple words, ' _James Buchanan Barnes'._ Laurel crumpled the paper and closed her eyes, trying to make sense of it. She wasn't even quite sure why she hadn't told Steve she knew who James was already. She didn't trust Steve, but she also knew that James was far more dangerous than Steve had let on.

Eventually Laurel came to a decision. She couldn't report to Steve, and she couldn't trust James, so she wouldn't get involved with either of them. She gingerly pulled herself off of the floor, feeling the soreness permeate her back and head. She shuffled over to her forgotten plate of spaghetti and slid it into the garbage, suddenly not hungry. There was about an hour until work, she realized with mild surprise, feeling slightly irritated that the rest of her life wasn't falling apart at the same time. She spent the hour staring at the picture of James that she had set on the counter. Not very productive, but by the time that Laurel had to leave for work, her mind was running significantly slower than it had been. She was able to walk slowly and calmly to work, with only a slight tremor in her hands when she unlocked the bar. Work seemed to fly by, even though to Laurel it felt like she was moving very slowly.

She was finishing serving a customer a beer, tuning out the whiny 80's ballad that was playing from the jukebox, when a man entered and strode up to the bar. Immediately Laurel was put on guard. He was huge, with slicked back hair and all black attire. He looked out of place with the middle-aged patrons that were drinking and singing like it was going out of style. Laurel smiled anyway and said, "Hey, how can I help you?"

The man looked her over and raised an eyebrow. Laurel fought the urge to cringe and waited patiently for his order. "I am looking for someone," he said in an oily voice with an accent that sounded vaguely German. Immediately Laurel went on her guard and replied, "Oh yeah? What kind of someone?"

"A man. He is supposed to be here."

Laurel stiffened and the man squinted. Laurel smiled at him again, even though she was sure it seemed forced. "I'm so sorry, but I can't really help you with that. Let me know if I can get you anything else." She turned down the bar and walked away, leaving the man standing there. Eventually she saw him leave, but not before taking his phone out and typing something quickly. Laurel broke out in a cold sweat, but hoped that it was nothing to worry about.

The rest of her night was a blur of trying to focus and trying not to panic, and locking up the bar was cathartic. She hurried to her apartment and locked the street door behind her, and her apartment door. She flicked the lights on and threw her bag on the counter with a relieved sigh. Sinking into the couch, she passed her hand over her eyes and randomly burst into tears. The stress was overwhelming and she was really tired.

Several minutes later Laurel had taken her last shuddering breath and then with a shake of her head, she raised her hand and saw James standing in front of her, holding the picture out with a look that could only be described as murderous.

 **Hey, it's me. I'm alive, surprisingly. So now Laurel has a better idea of who James is, and I can bet that the next chapter isn't going to have a ton of friendly feelings from her end. If you like reading this chapter, I absolutely love reading feedback and reviews, so feel free to post! Otherwise, favorite and follow. Thank you so much!**

 **kath**


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9-A Diving Board

Bucky POV

Bucky hadn't had the most enjoyable past 48 hours. After accidentally hurting Laurel, which was something he swore he would never do, and then taking off like a damn coward, which he most definitely was, he spent the hour after that standing in the darkened building across the street. He consoled himself with watching her shadow move back and forth across the windows until finally all the lights turned off and he was left alone with the images of what he had just done. Somehow the countless bodies that were piled in his past were significantly less guilt inducing than what had just happened. Laurel's whispered apology on his way out of her apartment was bouncing around in his skull like a bullet, and it was inflicting the same amount of pain. He needed to do something to feel less guilty, before it literally drove him insane. For the first time in several decades, he acted without really considering the consequences and strode across the street with one thought in his head.

Laurel's kiss had electrified him, sending a type of energy he hadn't felt in a long time through his veins, which alerted him, albeit too late, to the fact that what he was doing probably wasn't the best idea. He wrenched his lips away from hers, and trying not to think about the fact that her utter bewilderment and slightly swollen lips were one of the most attractive things he had seen in his entire life, he ran for the second time. This time, he kept walking, shouldering his backpack and pulling a hood over his slightly frantic expression and gripping his handgun tightly in the pocket of his jacket. Fingering the cool metal grounded him back to reality, and eventually he was able to slow his frantically beating heart to its usual steady rhythm. However, it couldn't erase the feel of a certain blonde's lips against his and he frowned slightly, mentally debating if that was a good or bad thing.

Bucky walked as far and as fast as he could before his footsteps slowed and he stopped. Leaving Laurel after she had already been talking to Steve wasn't the best idea. Although his experience with the tiny blonde was relatively limited, his time with Steve was not, and from what he remembered, Steve was relentless. He would bother Laurel until he was sure that she couldn't help him. Bucky soon realized that he was more worried for Laurel than Steve finding him, and that was enough for him to turn around with a groan, shouldering his backpack tighter. He took his time walking back, stopping to eat at a tiny restaurant that was completely empty save an old woman who both took his order and cooked it.

He arrived at the apartment building very early in the morning, with the intent of waiting until the morning to go to talk to Laurel and try to explain himself. However, his interest peaked when he noticed the light still on in her tiny apartment. More out of force of habit than anything else, he easily picked the lock for her flimsy door, which were essentially plywood, and moved up the creaky stairs silently, sticking to the sides to reduce the squeaking. He entered the room, looking for Laurel, but his attention was diverted by the single piece of paper that was sitting on the counter. He picked it up and his stomach dropped when he saw his own picture staring darkly up at him. Immediately the training and paranoia that he had been suppressing immediately flew to the surface and anger took over. His metal arm clenched tightly and the human fist snatched the paper up and stalked silently toward the couch, where Laurel was laying with her thin arm thrown over her face.

Suddenly, without any warning Laurel raised her arm and their eyes met. Bucky's rage wavered slightly when he saw her bloodshot and watery eyes. However, he was extremely surprised when despite the fact that she had obviously been crying, she returned his rage with her own. She stood and unashamedly wiped her eyes, glaring at him. "What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed at him, gritting her teeth and adopting a defensive stance. Bucky stepped back momentarily, overwhelmed by the venom in her voice, but then shook himself and shoved the paper under her nose and asked in a low, deadly calm voice.

"What is this? Where did you get this?" His training was already telling him that there were 20 different ways to disable her immediately, but he held the Asset back, trying to control his instincts.

Laurel flicked her eyes down to the paper and growled under her breath, the looked back up to meet Bucky's eyes and ground out, "Shouldn't I be asking you that question, Bucky?" His stomach dropped and his thoughts immediately flew to his childhood best friend who was currently valiantly searching for his whereabouts. Steve had lived up to his reputation and gotten to Laurel, terrifying Bucky into thinking that Laurel would be scared of him. Although from the way that she was glaring at him, that did not seem to be the case.

"How do you know that name?" His voice was a choked, harsh whisper and he hated how weak it sounded. Laurel's light brown eyes softened, but only slightly. She sat back down on the couch and rubbed her eyes furiously. "Your friend Steve came by to see me. He asked me to look for you at the bar. His actual wording of your character was significantly less flattering."

That didn't surprise Bucky all that much, he and Steve hadn't been on the best of terms the last time they were together. The last time he had seen Steve was when he was dragging him unconscious out of the river after beating the living shit out of him. Bucky ran his gloved hand over his hair and said, "Look, I don't know what he told you, but it's not as bad as it sounds." Even he was saying this, he was acknowledging the complete bullshit of the sentence, but pushed the guilt down further and focused on the woman in front of him.

Laurel rolled her eyes, which was something that Bucky couldn't remember the last time someone had been brave enough to do to his face. "Look James, I don't really care what Steve said about you. Quite frankly, he seems like a pretentious piece of shit and I do not trust him either," Bucky smirked at that, but then saw Laurel's face and sobered. "Everyone has a past, although I'm 99 percent sure that yours is significantly more traumatic than mine is. I just don't know why you didn't just tell me about it, or at least that you know Steve. I wouldn't have cared, but now I do. I know that you probably are used to not trusting people, but do you really think I would sell you out? Really?" Her voice was calm, but it wobbled at the end and Bucky could hear how much it was affecting her.

James just shrugged and stared at her. It was true, he didn't trust her, although he definitely would have at some point much earlier in his life. That didn't mean that he couldn't trust her. She was one of the few people that he felt like trust was an option in the future. Laurel's face dropped and Bucky belatedly realized that he had been staring at her silently for too long.

Laurel's thin shoulders dropped and she closed her eyes. "You shut me out, which is both concerning and annoying, and I can't decide which is winning right now. I think I'm going to choose annoyed, because that's easier for me. Are we going to talk about the fact that you kissed me and then ran?"

Bucky flinched, not expecting her quick topic change or how blunt she made it seem. "Should we?" He asked childishly and stepped back when Laurel kicked her foot toward his shin, fighting back the sudden urge to laugh at her frankly hilarious attempt to hurt him.

"Don't be an asshole James. You made me feel like a complete loser." She looked up at him and he could see the fear in her eyes. He noted that this was the first time he had seen any true fear in her eyes, and an overwhelming surge of affection covered him, finally relaxing his instincts enough to finally send the Asset into the background of his mind.

James carefully sunk down to sit on the couch next to Laurel, trying to ignore how close the two of them were, and carefully took Laurel's hand in his human one, feeling the warmth of her skin meet his. Laurel looked at him with a hint of questioning in her eyes, but then she interlaced her fingers with his. They sat together silently for several minutes until James said, "Steve was my best friend when we were growing up. We didn't grow up too far from here actually. Then I started in the Army, and Steve did too a while later, and we worked together for a while. It changed him for the better, forever." Laurel's hand tightened convulsively around his and he glanced at her with an absentminded smile. "I guess it changed me a lot too. More than I wanted it to. I just joined because I was drafted."

Laurel's voice broke in quietly, saying, "That seems like a reason enough for me."

He nodded again, but continued, saying, "But it turned me into something bad. Someone I didn't recognize, or even have the ability to recognize, at least for a long time. I guess a part of me blames Steve too, even though I know it's not his fault. I didn't want to join and I had to, and I got screwed over."

James's blue eyes were distant, recalling the bits and pieces that he could recall from his past. He stopped talking for a while, but his thoughts were interrupted by a small sniffle to his side. He looked and saw Laurel wiping a tear from the side of her face. She looked at him when she noticed him staring at her and gave a watery chuckle. "I think I hate Steve, James."

James unlaced their fingers and put his arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side and chuckling under his breath. "Don't hate Steve doll face. He didn't do anything."

Laurel looked up at him, her red and watery eyes sad. "But neither did you James."

The pit of guilt that he had lived with forever was prominent in his stomach as he shook his head, a few strands of dark hair falling over his forehead into his eyes. "That's not true."

Laurel abruptly shifted, grabbing his face between her thin hands and moving her face closer to his and stared into his eyes. Bucky felt incredibly on edge, but it wasn't the way he felt before a mission, or in a highly public place with countless threats and anomalies. It felt like he was standing on a diving board on a hot summer's day, with the anticipation of cool water just on the other edge. Laurel whispered to him, "So what if you did some bad? Who cares? Not me. You took the glass out of my arm, and you took care of that creep from the bar. You are not all bad."

Slowly wiping an errant tear from the bridge of her freckled nose, James stared at her face for what felt like several decades. He took a sharp inhale of breath before kissing her again and completing the third ridiculously stupid act in the last 48 hours. This time, he let the sensations that she created in his body wash over him and calm the pit of guilt and quiet the raging storm that was in his head. They broke apart after a moment, and Laurel gently rested her forehead against James's for a moment before setting it back onto his shoulder, allowing James time to try to figure out how the hell he was going to tell her the rest of the truth without completely losing her, and how much time he really had to do it.

 _ **Well, the truth is out there! Or not at all, but James is opening up to Laurel bits at a time. Thank you so much for reading this chapter! If you liked it, or have suggestions, please comment, reading comments is my favorite part! Favorite or follow! Thanks again!**_

 _ **kath**_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10- Taste of Domesticity

Laurel woke up in her bed late the next morning, alone, still in the clothes that she was wearing the night before. She shuffled out of her room, cracking her neck and looking for James. However, the apartment was still and empty, with all the curtains shut. She frowned to herself, desperately hoping he hadn't run off again after their kiss from last night. Opening the curtains, she winced when the warm sunlight hit her eyes and closed them against the onslaught.

"Shit, that is bright. Ow." She heard a creak behind her and she turned quickly on her heel to find James standing with a grocery bag in his gloved hand and a bemused smile on his face. She let her shoulders relax a little and smiled at him, but it was interrupted when a huge yawn overtook her and she stretched her arms over her head, cracking her neck in an attempt to loosen the stiffness that had built up from her few hours of sleep.

She looked over to James, who was moving around the kitchen, unpacking groceries. "Where did you go?" He looked up from the bag, which he had placed on the floor. Laurel's breath caught when she looked at the electric blue eyes that were constantly in the front of her mind.

He smiled, a bit sheepishly, and said, "I was going to make you breakfast, but you didn't actually have the ingredients, which I suppose is not that surprising. So I went to get some."

"Wow, that's very sweet of you. Thank you." Laurel shifted uncomfortably on the balls of her feet, unsure of what her next action should be. She decided to step cautiously forward with the intent of giving James a hug, but stopped when he stepped back, slightly, almost instinctively. Laurel's shoulders slumped a little, but she tried to pretend like it didn't bother her. It was something that she should have expected. Laurel knew that he didn't like being touched, and especially now that she knew his background, it made more sense. Still, it was hard for her to figure out what he was comfortable with. She decided that it was up to him to make a move, even if that never happened. Turning, she went to pull a bowl from the cupboard feeling like a complete idiot.

Suddenly, a pair of arms, one cold and the other warm, slid around her thin waist and hugged her, if a little hesitantly. Laurel inhaled quickly and without really thinking about it, turned around into his chest. James stiffened but then pulled her even tighter. Laurel could feel his chest muscles under her fingers and his heartbeat. She looked up into his blue eyes and swallowed hard at the look that he was giving her. She looked down to avoid his eyes, simply because she wasn't quite sure if she could handle it. James's metal arm unwound from her waist and cool fingers slowly lifted her chin. Laurel was suddenly aware that her heart was beating approximately three times what was healthy and she was frozen, watching James lean down towards her. She instinctively closed her eyes and tried to prepare herself.

James kissed her slowly at first, taking his time and tilting her head back even farther. Laurel felt like the inside of her body was melting and she had to wrap her arms around his neck to support herself. Suddenly it was like a dam had broken and James wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her clear off the floor. She gasped against his mouth and he smiled slightly, his lips curling upwards against hers. He set her on the counter and she wrapped her legs around his torso, running her fingers through the tangled hair at the base of his neck, tugging on it lightly. He groaned and pulled her even closer to him.

Suddenly Laurel's phone started ringing from her bedroom and she reluctantly broke away, valiantly attempting to catch her breath. James seemed less inclined to stop, and began moving his lips down her neck. Laurel gasped and momentarily pulled him closer, but the constant ringing of her phone ruined the mood and she unhooked her legs from his waist, sliding to the side and off of the counter with a sigh. "I'm so sorry," Laurel whispered, and impulsively licked the side of his neck on her way passed him. James growled under his breath and tried to grab her again, but Laurel slipped past him and walked to her room, picking her phone up from the bed. She took a deep breath and tried to calm herself

"Hello?" She ran a hand over her hair, trying to calm the curls that had escaped.

Richard, her boss, cleared his throat slightly, "Laurel? Are you okay? You seem flustered."

Laurel blushed, thankful that he couldn't see her over the phone. "Yeah, I am. Sorry, I couldn't find my phone, so I was running around looking for it. What's up?"

"I was wondering if you could come in a few hours earlier, we have a newbie to train behind the bar, and you'd be the best one to take care of that." Richard seemed apologetic about the extra hours, but Laurel was more concerned with not dropping her phone in surprise.

"Did you say newbie? As is you hired another person?"

Richard sounded mildly offended, "Yes, that's exactly what I mean. Why do you sound surprised?"

"Richard, you haven't hired a new person in the entire goddamn time I've worked at the Red Lantern. Also, I was the first person you hired that wasn't you, and that was only because you felt bad for me. I was a homeless person who was begging you for a job," Laurel rolled her eyes slightly, sitting on the bed. She could hear James moving around in the kitchen and she smiled to herself.

Richard sounded reproachful, "Laurel, you know that's not true. I gave you the job because I needed help, and you were good at it."

Laurel laughed lightly and rolled her eyes, "Okay Richard, whatever you say. Listen I'll be there around two okay? Bye Richard." She hung up without letting him say goodbye. She turned and went back to the kitchen, sitting by the counter and watching James move around the kitchen for a few moments before he said, "Who was that?"

Laurel was startled out of her reverie and she glanced over and said, "My boss, Richard. He needs me to come in early and train someone." James set a plate of steaming food in front of her that upon closer inspection, she discovered that they were pancakes.

"Pancakes? How long have you known how to make pancakes?" Laurel asked with a full mouth, savoring the first pancakes she had eaten in a few years. "Since I found a box mix that said it would make pancakes," James took a seat next to her with his own plate. Laurel rolled her eyes and kept eating. They ate in comfortable silence, focusing on eating.

The rest of Laurel's free time went quickly, unfortunately for her. She took a shower and cleaned the apartment, which she had been putting off for entirely too long. Luckily the whole place was small enough that it only took an hour. James showered as well, then spent the rest of the day laid out on Laurel's bed asleep. Laurel was happy to let him do it, because if the dark circles that were etched under his eyes were any indication, he needed the rest. She was secretly pleased that he felt comfortable enough to take a nap at all, with how guarded he was.

She was finally dressed and ready for work when James woke up. He walked out of her room, rubbing his eyes with his human hand like a little kid.

"Hey, I have to go to work okay? I'll be back later on." He nodded at her and smiled. Laurel pointed to a shelf, where there were a few books that she had collected. "Here, something for you to do if you get bored. Otherwise, you could come down to the bar and keep me company." James nodded and then in a surprising and incredibly sweet move, kissed her forehead. Laurel blushed and the shuffled awkwardly out the door, seeming to have lost the ability to speak.

She made the short trek to the bar. Upon entering, she saw Richard standing with a tall African-American man with warm brown eyes. "Hey guys," Laurel walked forward with a smile.

Richard came forward and gave her a one-armed hug, "Hiya honey, how ya doing? This is the new guy, Sam Wilson."

Sam smiled and stuck his hand out. "Laurel, right? I'm Sam." Laurel shook his warm callused hand with a smile.

"That's me. I'm here to show you the ropes, and then I guess we're working together." Laurel went and set her stuff down behind the bar. The next few hours were spent showing Sam the ropes of the bar, none of which was particularly challenging, and Sam seemed to be a competent worker who wouldn't have any problems.

"Oka, so when you close the bar, just make sure that you clean up afterward, because for some reason people forget how to pick up their garbage and the bar will smell like shit if you don't."

Sam laughed and then nodded. "Copy that." He knelt down to pick up a case of beer and a pair of shiny silver dog tags slipped out of his shirt, dangling and catching the dim lighting of the bar.

"What part of the service were you in?" Laurel was curious, because even though she didn't know what branch James was in, she could always ask him when she got back.

Sam glanced down, almost seeming surprised to see them around his neck. "Air Force. I was a Pararescueman."

Laurel had no idea what that was, so she settled for nodding politely and smiling. Noting her obvious confusion, Sam grinned again and he said, "I saved people by jumping from planes."

"Oh! Very cool. Well, thank you for your service," she said blushing slightly. Laurel snorted a little to herself, simply because she had said that same thing not very long ago. Sam raised an eyebrow in question and Laurel smiled a little and said, "Nothing, I just said that recently to Ja- a guy I know."

Something flashed through Sam's eyes, almost imperceptibly, but it was gone in an instant and he covered it up with another smile. "Yeah, it's kind of funny you can go without saying something for so long and then say it a lot all at once."

Laurel laughed a little and said, "Exactly," she paused, looking around the bar absentmindedly, "so, customers should start coming in any time now. Let me know if you need any help."

"Yes ma'am," Sam smirked and then turned toward the back, pulling his phone from his pocket and typing something quickly. He turned and slid his phone back into his pocket, "Sorry, my friend was checking in. He wanted to check on how things were going here."

Laurel smirked, "Worried about you on your first day on the job?"

"Something like that." Their conversation was cut short by a group of bikers that crowded through the door, apparently desperate for beer. The beginning of the night passed quickly, as it was unusually busy. Laurel kept flicking her yes toward the door, checking to see if James would take her up on her offer of keeping her company. The night was a lot more fun with Sam working. Laurel was less tired and Sam proved to be a good coworker, cracking jokes and cutting her workload in half.

At one point in the night, Sam went back to the storeroom to get more beer, which was a task that Laurel usually dreaded because frankly she was too weak to carry more than one case at a time and going back and forth millions of times was exhausting. She was resting against the bar with her back resting against the bar when she felt a tap against her shoulder. She spun around and came face to face with James, who was hiding his face again with a baseball hat and his dark hooded jacket. Laurel smiled at him and he returned it, but he was tense and his eyes were flickering to the other patrons.

Laurel laid a hand on his forearm and James flinched a little, but then he flipped his arm over and slid his hand down her arm until their fingers intertwined. "I brought you this." From his sweatshirt pocket he pulled a partially squished sandwich, wrapped haphazardly in plastic. Melting a bit, Laurel smiled a little and impulsively leaned forward and pecked him on the lips. With a bigger smile she said, "Thank you so much. Are you going to stay and hang out with me?"

There was a sudden movement from one of the patrons and James tensed momentarily, squeezing Laurel's fingers. "No that's okay. I was getting very involved in that Hunger Games book. I'll just see you when you get back okay?"

Laurel nodded and said, "Okay, see you then." This time James pecked Laurel on the lips, turning around and pulling his coat closer to him before pushing out the door. Laurel took a bite out of the sandwich and turned with a half-smile on her face to find Sam standing there, staring at her with an indecipherable expression on his face.

"Sorry Sam, did you need something?" Laurel took another bite and savored the peanut butter flavor. Sam shook his head slightly, then turned away to put the cases of beer he was holding. The rest of the night was uneventful, although Sam kept glancing at her with an odd expression on his face. They were locking up the bar when she felt Sam touch her shoulder hesitantly.

"Are you dating the guy that was in here earlier?" He shifted on his feet and stuck his hands in his pockets.

Laurel paused and cocked her head to the side. She hadn't even realized that he had seen James. "Um, not really. Why?"

Sam shook his head, "Just wondering. Goodnight Laurel." He patted her shoulder and turned away, pulling his phone out and putting it to his ear as he walked away. Laurel stared after him, trying to ignore the gnawing feeling in her stomach that the shit was about to hit the fan.

 **Chapter 10 is up! And if anyone is wondering, Laurel's gut feeling is probably correct. Shit is about to go down. Also, Laurel and James are cute as hell, at least to me. Let me know what you think so far, or if you have any suggestions for me! I really do love reading reviews, they make my day. Otherwise, favorite and follow! Thank you so much!**

 **kath**


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11- Standoff

Laurel carefully unlocked the door, making sure she locked it afterward. After both James and Steve had made unannounced visits into her house, she was under the impression that she might have to ramp up her personal security, although admittedly it probably wouldn't have made a lot of difference. If either of them wanted to get into her house, they could without much difficulty. The door had never really locked, and if you pulled the handle at the right angle, the door would open. Like a lot of the other improvements in her house, she was constantly under the false impression that she would get around to fixing it as soon as she had time.

She pushed the door open with her shoulder, kicking the door closed behind her. She threw her bag on the floor, letting the contents spill out all over the floor. She heard the bedroom door behind her open and James came out of the room with a guarded expression in his face and to her intense surprise, a handgun in her hand. When he noticed her, he relaxed and stuck the handgun into the waistband on the sweatpants he had on, which way too small for him because they were Laurel's. Laurel raised her eyebrow in question and James said, "You were making so much noise that I thought someone was with you."

"Okay, and your first instinct is to bring out a handgun? How would that help the situation?" Laurel walked into her room without bothering to turn the light on. She slipped a sweatshirt on and pulled her jeans off, putting on a pair of large men's shorts.

James snorted and said, "I could have taken you or whoever else came into the room out and have disposed of the body within the same hour." Laurel spun around to see him watching her from the doorway. His tone was light, but Laurel could see that he was completely serious. Laurel swallowed and the slid past him, brushing her shoulder against his metal one. A shiver involuntarily slid down her spine and she could only pray that James hadn't noticed.

"Do you want any tea or something?" Laurel looked over her shoulder to see James watching her with an unreadable expression. Suddenly a bit anxious, she grabbed a random flavor from the battered tin and stuck it into the lukewarm mug of water. Shuffling over to the couch, she plopped down and tucked her feet under herself, staring straight ahead with eyes that were glazed over with exhaustion. James came and sat next to her, then cautiously put his arm around her shoulder. Laurel responded immediately and placed her head against his shoulder, and closed her eyes.

"When are we going to talk about the fact that you have people chasing after you? Steve included?" She felt James stiffen in response and internally kicked herself. Laurel hadn't even really planned on bringing it up, but the black leather guy from a few nights ago and Steve kept popping into her head and the words slipped out.

James shifted slightly and Laurel raised her head from his arm again and turned to look at him. "What do you want to talk about? The fact that I've been hunted like a goddamn animal for the better part of a year by countless people? That last night was quite literally the first time I've had over 3 hours of sleep in as long as I can remember? The fact that once they find me they won't stop until I'm in their custody?" He sounded exhausted and angry and it

Laurel closed her mouth uncomfortably and said, "Well, yeah. That I guess. You know you don't have to worry about me right? I can take care of myself, and I know you can too, but I want to be there for you. I told you that everyone needs help, and that there was nothing wrong with that. Please let me help you in any way I can." Laurel was breathing harder after her plea, feeling a slow blush creep over her face.

James just sighed and gave her a sad smile. "Laurel I want you to know that as soon as I feel like you're in danger, I'm going to leave. I am not endangering the only positive relationship that I have had in ages. You mean too much to me, and if you ended up hurt or dead, I would never forgive myself."

Laurel's heart dropped and her face must have as well, because James gently gripped her chin with his cool metal fingers and lifted her face to his, pecking her on the lips. That didn't help her feel any better, and the lump in her throat only grew. She took several gulps of tea and looked upwards, trying to stem the sudden water in the corner of her eyes.

She stood suddenly, walking over to the sink and dumping the rest of her tea down the drain. She could feel James's eyes following her around, so she kept her back to him, forcing the tears to stay gathered in the corners of her eyes rather than making her way down her face. Grabbing the pillow and quilt off her bed, she shuffled towards James and stuck them out in front of her, keeping her eyes down.

"Goodnight James, I'll see you tomorrow, or I guess maybe not." Then she spun on her toes and closed the door of her room. She sunk on the bed and rubbed her eyes furiously, trying to ignore the feelings of abandonment that were constantly creeping up from her past but had subsided when she was with James. Laying down she tucked her arms under her curls and tried to sleep, even though she knew it was completely useless. Suddenly she heard the door quietly open and James crept into the room. Laurel regulated her breathing, trying to keep it slow and steady, like someone who was asleep. Suddenly the bed dipped and moved slightly and Laurel's breath caught.

James laid the quilt over the both of them and Laurel relaxed into the warmth momentarily until she felt a thick metal band wrap around her waist and pull her backwards into a strong chest. Laurel squeezed her eyes shut momentarily and asked, "What do you want James?"

"I just want to keep you safe." He whispered down her neck and a shiver ran down her spine.

Laurel pulled away slightly and turned over to face him saying, "I understand that, but don't you think that we might be in more danger apart from each other? I know that we don't really know each other but-"

James was shaking his head. "You don't understand. If they catch you with me, they will kill you, and they will make it hurt."

"Why don't you want my help? Why don't you want me?" Laurel whispered quietly. She knew that wasn't what James meant, but she couldn't help but feel responsible for his decision. Her mind was fighting against the

James pulled her closer to him, until there was only a millimeter of space between them. "Believe me Laurel, I want you." His voice was deep and rough and sent a wave of heat down towards her core. Moving to hover over her body James continued, "But I want you alive, so I can do things like this," he kissed her neck and Laurel arched her back upwards towards his chest involuntarily at the feel of his stubble scraping her neck gently, "and this," James grabbed her legs and wrapped them around his waist, making Laurel catch her breath, "And even this."

He finally met her lips with his and Laurel let the feelings of doubt fade away for a few moments, even as her head was telling her that what she was doing was even worse in the long run. She had, in that moment completely stopped caring and if she was being honest, it had been a while since her last boyfriend and the feeling of James pressed against her was intoxicating.

Pulling away momentarily, Laurel sat up and pulled her huge sweatshirt over her head and threw it on the floor, leaving her in just a sports bra and shorts. She turned back to James to see him staring at her with a hungry look. Laurel blushed a little and muttered, "What?"

James just shook his head slightly, apparently speechless and pulled her down to his level for another deep kiss. Laurel ran her hands up his shirt, feeling him flinch slightly at the cold of her hands. She felt his sculpted chest under her fingers and motioned in the middle of the embrace for him to remove his shirt. They broke apart and he complied hurriedly before meeting her mouth again. James gently bit her lip and Laurel gasped, which was all James needed to slide his tongue into her mouth. Laurel molded her body even further, wrapping her arms around his neck and playing the hair at the bottom of his neck. James slid his hands down her waist and cupped her ass.

There was no space between them now, and Laurel was completely losing herself in his touch when she heard, distantly, someone knocking on the outer door of the apartment. She tried to ignore it for a while, but the pounding was continuous. "Oh for fuck's sake." Laurel pulled herself away from James and slid out of bed, and headed towards the door, attempting to calm her breathing and smoothing her hair.

"Laurel." She turned towards James and was hit in the face by James's shirt. She threw it on over her head and flipped a smirking James off before stalking towards the door and down the stairs. She attempted to calm what she was sure looked like sex hair before opening the door quickly.

She started in surprise when she saw Sam standing there, wearing red tinted glasses and what looked like a metal vest. "Hey Sam, what are you doing here? You should be getting some sleep."

Sam just gave her a tense smile and said, "Sorry, did I wake you up?"

"Naw, I was still up." Laurel fought to keep the rising blush off of her face. She suddenly was extremely aware of the fact that it was painfully obvious that she was wearing a man's clothes and her hair was a mess. From the odd expression on Sam's face, he seemed to realize what she had been doing as well. She cleared her throat awkwardly and then said, "So, what can I do for you?"

Sam was about to reply when there was a crash from upstairs. Worried about James, Laurel turned to go up the stairs and check on him when suddenly Sam reached out and grabbed her, pulling her backwards to his chest and wrapping his arm around her neck in a headlock. Laurel gasped and started struggling, attempting to break out, fully aware of the fact that he was significantly stronger than she was. Jamming her elbow backwards in an attempt to make him let go of her, she swore loudly when her arm came into contact with the metal vest that Same was wearing. "I'm sorry Laurel," Sam muttered into her ear, even as more crashes and shouting were heard from upstairs. Laurel pulled at Sam's arm again, breathing heavily, trying to come to terms with the lack of oxygen, and even briefly considered biting him. Her struggle abruptly came to a halt when she felt cool metal on the side of her temple.

"What do you want from me?" Laurel was fighting the rising panic in her system. Panicking wouldn't help in the situation, even if it seemed easier at that moment.

Sam released a minute amount of pressure on her throat and said, "From you? Nothing. Just please, I'm begging you, don't do anything stupid. That only makes this harder." With that, he started guiding them forward toward the stairs, kicking the door shut behind them. Upon entering the apartment, Laurel could see mild signs of a struggle. The mug that she had left on the counter was now shattered on the floor, the white shards of porcelain spread around the battered wood, as well a few cupboard doors that were cracked or hanging askew.

But in the center of the room was the focus of the struggle. James was standing, still shirtless and in Laurel's sweatpants, staring with a murderous expression on his face at a man in a blue suit who was holding a circular shield. The two men hadn't noticed Laurel and Sam enter the room, as they were in the middle of a conversation. The tension in the room was so thick it was almost suffocating.

"Buck, please, just come with me! I just wan-" The man in blue was saying, lifting one hand in what was supposed to be a placating manner. James was shaking his head.

"No. You and that agency you do the dirty work for can kiss my ass. You'll bring me in and run tests on me, and then use me as a weapon. That's what the other side wants to do too." James finally glanced over and saw Laurel and Sam standing there and if possible, his face turned even darker. He made a move towards them but stopped when Sam raised his gun a little higher on her head. Laurel shook her head slightly, in what she hoped was a placating manner. The man in blue turned and Laurel's mouth opened involuntarily when she realized that the man was both Captain America and Steve.

"What the fuck?" Laurel stared at him accusingly and he had the decency to look a little ashamed. Laurel's head was spinning and she really wanted to sit, but her current situation made that impossible. "Steve is Captain America?" She glanced over at James, who still looked angry, but was now looking at her with an indecipherable expression as if waiting for her to react.

"Wait but that means that you fought with him during-" She shook her head slightly and fell silent. This was too much to process at once, and it wasn't the right time.

Evidently Steve thought so as well, because he shook his head and said, "Look Bucky, you have to come with us. Because frankly, although this was a better hiding spot than I would have expected, the other guys aren't far behind us. You know their persuasion tactics are going to be a lot different than what I'm doing right now."

James stared at him sullenly, "You mean threatening someone I care deeply about with a gun? That seems on par with what they would do."

Laurel rolled her eyes slightly and said, "James, I'm fine. Worry about you right now. You have bigger problems than I do." She shifted slightly, tiring of the constant pressure around her throat. Sam shifted the gun on her temple and James growled. "James, seriously."

He finally snapped his attention back to the man in front of him. "Final answer, I'm not going with you. I need my life back or at least rebuild it, and spending time with you isn't going to cut it anymore." Steve physically flinched and Laurel realized that he really wasn't lying when he told him how much he cared for James. A flicker of regret passed over James's face before he turned away and walked over to the bedroom. Steve followed him a few paces behind, but he didn't need to worry as James emerged a few moments later wearing his sweatshirt and shoes. He pulled his backpack from the hallway closet, which surprised Laurel because she didn't even know he had put it there.

Steve said, "Bucky, I don't want to force you to come with us, please know that. But if I have to, I will." James bristled and pulled a pistol out of his backpack, not pointing it, but simply holding it and letting everyone in the room see it. If the tension in the room had been thick before, it was unbearable now. Laurel broke into a cold sweat and swallowed against Sam's forearm.

Steve stepped forward with a grim expression. "Please Buck, don't do this. Don't make me do this." With a flick of Steve's finger, Sam pushed Laurel forward and cocked the gun that was placed against her temple. Laurel watched the distinctive blue eyes that she found so mesmerizing darken and become narrowed slits. It was like watching himself fight with his self-control and those terrifying reflexes that Laurel had experienced once or twice. He stepped forward, eyes focused on Sam and the gun connected to Laurel's now slightly sweaty temple.

"James, it's okay. Look, I'm okay." Laurel tried to speak calmly, so as not make it worse. James's eyes snapped to hers and for a moment the brown connected with blue before James turned to Steve and said, "I'll come with you. If not doing so means that you're going to hurt Laurel, then yes." The resignation in his voice hurt Laurel more than anything.

"No, James, seriously. Do not do anything that you do not want to do. I will be fine." Laurel started struggling again.

"Laurel, I told you that at the first sign of you in danger, I would leave. I think that the first sign has passed, don't you?" He gave her a sad smile and slowly starting picking up his stuff, handing it to Steve. Tears that she didn't know were building up in her eyes started trickling down her face. Steve motioned toward the door and James walked that way, with Laurel and Sam following close behind. They made an odd group, walking down the stairs in a silent procession, but Laurel was focused on trying not to completely break down. Somehow losing James when it wasn't his choice made it so much worse, and she couldn't help but feel guilty for her part in his entrapment. They stopped outside, where Steve spoke a few words into a microphone and a van caravan suddenly appeared. The middle van opened up in the back, and a dark-haired woman in a dark jumpsuit who looked like she could have eaten Laurel for breakfast stepped out. She glanced over at Laurel, seemingly uninterested in the fact that Laurel looked like a mess with tears running down her face.

Steve nodded, "Agent Hill." She nodded to both of them and then turned and started talking into her microphone.

"Captain, Sergeant, we need to get moving, before civilians start noticing this, or any other unwelcome parties." She motioned to the van, and Steve started towards it, but James did not. He stayed staring at Laurel for a bit longer, before fixing Sam with a death glare.

"Can I at least say goodbye?" He motioned to Laurel and Sam reluctantly let her go. Laurel stepped away from him, rubbing her neck gently. James stepped forward and pulled Laurel into a hug.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly against the onslaught of tears.

James pulled away and stared into her watery eyes. "It's not your fault."

Laurel nodded, "It is. You need to promise me that you can forgive me and that we'll see each other again."

James nodded minutely and then pressed a quick kiss to her forehead, before turning away and facing the truck with tense shoulders. He climbed in the truck without another word and Agent Hill shut the doors. Steve turned to her, as if to say something, and Laurel promptly kicked him in the nuts. "Fuck you asshole." She turned to Sam and said, "Fuck you too." Then she turned around and walked into the apartment and closed the door behind her.

Laurel made it to the couch before she let out a frustrated scream and finally let the tears fall.

 _ **Chapter 11! Thank you so much for those of you who are reading! Please leave me a review if you liked it of if you have any suggestions.**_


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12- Avoidance Tactics

Bucky POV

James sat in the back of the dark van, clenching his hands together and trying to remain calm. Steve had climbed into the back a few moments afterwards, holding his crotch and mumbling something about the sanity of tiny blonde people. James smiled a little internally, and the thought of Laurel kicking Steve in the nuts was enough to relax him enough to relax his fists and place his hands on his thighs. James could feel Steve's eyes on him and he reluctantly raised his eyes to make eye contact. There was so much raw emotion in his eyes that James was momentarily stunned.

"Where the hell have you been Buck?" Steve's whispered question stabbed James somewhere in his abdomen and he fought to keep his face impassive. Even though he wasn't happy with Steve, James couldn't ignore how much he had missed his best friend. But suddenly the panicked look in Laurel's brown eyes when the gun was pressed to her head flashed into his mind and his sympathy disappeared.

James looked away and scowled, "Just trying to find the life that was so kindly taken away from me."

"Do you not remember anything?" James glanced back at the man sitting across from him, who was leaning forward in earnest. Suddenly a short series of memories rushed over him again, each one only a few seconds long, but it was the same. Steve's face, looking unchanged, despite the many years with the same expression. James realized that Steve had been there for all the important parts of his overly long life, and he was almost always wearing the same concerned, involved expression.

James smiled a little, much to his surprise as it was Steve's and looked over. "I remembered you a lot. I remembered fixing the sink in the apartment."

Now it was Steve's turn to smile, "I remember that too. There was water everywhere. Your sisters were running around with rags and anything they could find to soak up the water. But we got the damn thing fixed. Together."

The two men were quiet for a few moments, both with their minds years in the past. Suddenly, James's smiled slipped a little and he furrowed his brows a bit before saying, "What was with the whole bad guy act back with Laurel? I thought you were better than that."

Steve ran his hand through his hair sheepishly and the happiness that was lighting up his features dimmed a little. "Buck, you have to understand, they were so close to finding you. We have spies for the other side and they were days, possibly even hours behind us. If you didn't come with us, they would have gotten you and your friend. I would have never hurt her, but I couldn't take the risk of not taking you with me. You know I wouldn't have hurt her right?" James could see the desperation for understanding in Steve's eyes and even though he wasn't sure, James nodded impassively. The important thing to him right now was that Laurel was safe, but even so, the Asset in his head that only quieted when Laurel was around demanded that he take this entire convoy out and return to make sure Laurel was all right. He calmed his rioting thoughts with the images of her tiny frame straddling his waist, with the intense, overwhelming look in her brown eyes that made him lose the breath in his lungs.

The van came to a sudden halt, pulling James out from his thoughts, where he noticed Steve staring at him strangely. James shook it off when the double doors at the back of the van pulled open and Agent Hill gestured for the two men to exit. Steve slid smoothly out of the van first, and James followed. He took a step, but Agent Hill put a hand up to stop him and help up a pair of electromagnetic handcuffs. "Sergeant, please." James turned to look at Steve dubiously, who was looking at the Agent with an embarrassed look, but Hill was completely unfazed. "These are the strongest pair of cuffs in our possession," she informed him tersely, "They are also electric and if you try to run, I will send an electric shock through your body that will either knock you out or stop your heart. I'd rather not find out which." Steve let out what sounded like a cross between a strangled gasp and an annoyed groan, but Agent Hill just looked at him.

James grunted a little, and stuck his hands out. While the cuffs were being attached to his wrists, he calmed the raging Asset by instead imaging Laurel asleep with her head on his shoulder. A sense of detached calm came over him, even as he came to the realization that exactly what he had feared would happen was coming to pass. He walked with Steve next to him through the middle of a deserted airplane hangar. The silence was eerie, but James tried to roll the tension out of his shoulders and not on the fact that most likely the hangar had been clear specifically for his transport.

They exited the hangar and James was completely taken aback by the sudden pristine gray hallway. The door sealed behind them with a resounding bang and the sound of several electronic locks. James winced, but Steve walking next to him was an unexpectedly calming presence. They walked down several long hallways, each as gray and uniform as the last, until they entered an unmarked room directly off the hallway to the right.

James blinked in surprise when he entered a rather large bedroom. The room was plain, with dark colors. A bed was placed in the middle, perfectly made, with a bookshelf and a dresser along the walls. There a door partially open and James could see the ceramic gleam of a sink and toilet. The room had no windows, but there was a strip of lights along the ceiling that made it seem like daylight. It was clearly meant to be comforting and relaxing, and James supposed that a lot of people would have been perfectly content. For some reason, James kept imagining Laurel's consistently unmade bed with clothes and shoes scattered in random places, and finding with mild surprise that constantly being in fear of tripping over Laurel's shoes was preferable to the order, which up until a few days ago would not have been the case.

He slowly turned in a circle, surveying the room impassively, fully aware that Steve was watching his reactions carefully. He turned and looked at him silently in question. Steve smiled and said, "This is yours, all right? If you need anything, you can just press that button over there and we'll come and help. Also," he pulled a slim gray phone from his suit and placed it on the bedside table, "I'm the only number on here, and if you ever want to train or run, let me know. I'll come get you for dinner." James just nodded and then Agent Hill stepped forward and slid a slim metal rod into a space in the cuffs and they detached from James's arms with a quiet electronic hiss. James nodded and Agent hill turned and left the room, followed by Steve after a moment of hesitation.

James sat on the end of the bed, his eyes wandering around the room, his training allowing him to automatically take in any and all pertinent details. Logic dictated that he was being watched, along with listened to. He noted, to his growing discomfort, that the only way out was through the door. He cautiously walked over to it and tried the handle. Although he was not surprised, the dread in his stomach still grew when the knob turned but he wasn't able to push it open. The Asset was getting louder in his head, and suddenly his vision was getting spotty. He knew that if he lost his vision completely, the Asset would completely take over, and even if they had prepared for that possibility, there was no telling what he would do. He squeezed his eyes shut and focused on holding onto his own mind.

His eyes opened for a moment and he glanced at the strip of lights on the top of the wall. Suddenly an image that he had seen the morning before flashed in his mind and quieted the anger. He was coming back from the grocery store and had just entered the room when he caught sight of Laurel opening the curtains. One again, she was dressed in oversized clothes that really didn't suit her tiny frame, and her curly hair was a mess. The sun hit her frame perfectly and her hair looked for a moment like it was a glowing halo. Then she swore viciously as the sun hit her eyes and James suddenly realized he would rather die than have her get hurt. She gave him a sense of normalcy and peace that was completely foreign to him until a few days ago, but now that he got a taste of it, he was addicted.

His heart rate returned to normal and he heaved a deep sigh, then opened his eyes to once again take stock of his room. He noted that the bookshelf was chock full of books, most of them looking brand new and untouched. James walked over and brushed his fingers over the spines of the books, feeling the rough texture and reading the titles, some of which he knew, most of them he didn't. Reading hadn't been a priority before the war, but reading quieted some of the noise in his head. Mindlessly selecting one at random, he sat on the floor next to the bookshelf and began reading. Thankfully, reading allowed his mind to slip into a gentle lull and the next thing he realized was Steve standing in front of him, holding a tray of dinner with a questioning look in his eyes.

James hoisted himself up on his metal arm and stretched his sore limbs. Grabbing the tray from the Steve, James walked over to the small armchair in the corner of the room and took a seat. The food was good, but James kept imagining the slightly overcooked spaghetti that Laurel had made him. Steve cautiously took a seat across from him on the bed and James looked at him with one raised eyebrow before saying, "I wouldn't be a prisoner huh? I knew that would be bullshit."

"James, we had to be careful. Given your track record," Steve briefly paused and James knew he was imagining the Triskelion in shambles, "we just had to be cautious. As long as you have someone taking you somewhere, you can go wherever you want." James frowned at those words, but nodded silently. He was a prisoner, but until he could find a way to break out, there was no reason to try to run. Laurel was safe, and that was motivation enough to stay calm and quiet for a while.

When James didn't reply, Steve made as if to move out of the room, but a sudden thought occurred to James and he heedlessly blurted out, "Steve, wait." When the blonde man turned in question James swallowed the food he had in his mouth and said, "I need a favor."

"Sure Buck, anything for you."

"I need you to keep an eye on Laurel for me. Make sure she's safe? And if you could make sure she's eating too, I mean just like get her groceries or something, that would be good. Could you do that?"

Steve was staring at him with an awed expression. "Wow, you really care for that girl." It wasn't spoken as a question, simply as a statement of fact. Although he was not a huge fan of the phrase 'that girl' when people were talking about Laurel, James had no choice but to nod and say, "Yeah." His metal fist clenched convulsively around the fork he was holding, fighting the sudden wave of emotion and it snapped suddenly. James flinched a little in surprise, as did Steve, but then then blonde man looked up at him and said, "Sure Buck, I can take care of it." The anxiousness in the pit of James's stomach decreased a bit, so he nodded and continued eating with his mangled fork. Steve stood and let himself out of the room, closing the door firmly behind him.

James finished eating, even if the food was slightly tasteless in his mouth. He spent the next few hours attempting to distract himself with a book once again, but he couldn't get more than halfway down the page without losing his place and getting distracted. He finally just put the book away and laid on his bed, staring aimlessly at the ceiling. He was suddenly aware of the fact that he was completely alone and it was completely suffocating. Eventually, without even knowing the time of day he fell into a fitful sleep, and the nightmares started again in rapid succession. He woke up several times in the middle of a strangled yell, or breathing as if he had been running. Eventually he abandoned the idea of sleep altogether and did pushups until his human arm burned and smarted, eventually giving out from under him and sending him tumbling to the floor.

He laid panting on the gray shag carpet, once again feeling hopelessly alone and trapped. Solitude was something he had craved, until he met a certain blonde girl and spent a little too much time with her. He got attached and now he wasn't sure if he would enjoy being alone as much ever again. Glancing over at the clock he noticed that it was only 4 am. There was no way to pass the time except sit in the dark and think. It was enough to drive a person crazy. But he had nothing else to do, so he sat, and he thought, and he remembered, and by the time it was 7 am there were the remains of tears imprinted down his face.

A knock sounded at the door and he jumped, attempting to wipe the remains of his weakness away. He opened the door to see Steve staring at him with a sympathetic expression. Without saying a word he pulled James into a brief hug, which James returned after a moment's hesitation. Steve walked over to a drawer and pulled out a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, and then motioned for James to take them into the bathroom. "Go change, we'll go train when you're ready." James nodded, changing and splashing some water onto his face in order to relieve some of his growing exhaustion. When he exited Steve had a pair of black tennis shoes in his hand that he handed to James.

The pair of them walked down several more uniform gray hallways until they enter a massive training area, clearly meant for agents in the field. "Ready Buck?" Steve threw a sparring stick towards him and James caught it easily. The next hours were spent essentially trying to beat the shit out of each other, without seriously injuring the other and it was exactly what James needed. He fought as if it was an instinct, punching, blocking, striking, anything that could help quiet his raging head. For the next few hours, all he saw was red. With a sudden burst of savageness, he disarmed Steve and with a vicious kick to the chest sent him flying across the practice mat, landing on the other side of the floor with a groan.

James was panting, sweat running down his face and sticking his shirt to his chest. But his head was quiet, maybe not as calm as it was when he was around Laurel, but quiet all the same. He sighed and walked over to Steve, sticking his hand down to lift him back up. "Do you feel better?" Steve managed between gritted teeth.

"Yeah," James smirked a little despite himself, "Thanks for being my punching bag."

Steve grinned, a grin slightly marred by the split lip he was sporting, "Anything for you Buck. Although you didn't get me that good. I could do this all day." There was a feeling of déjà vu that came with those words, one of happier times. The two men were wiping the excess sweat off with small gray towels when Steve's phone rang.

Steve walked over and picked up, "Hello?" Someone on the other end began speaking rapidly, the low voice indicating to James that it was a male, but it was too quiet to pick out what was being said. Steve's face dropped to an impassive expression, even if his eyes were telling another story. James gritting his teeth in concentration, trying to understand what was being said, but he couldn't. "Okay, give me a few minutes, I'll join you in a bit." He hung up and took a deep breath, then glanced at James, "Sorry, one of my other missions, um, hit a snag. I have to go with Sam in a few minutes, but I'll walk you back to your room." It was easy to see that he was lying, but James knew that if Steve didn't want to talk about something, he wouldn't. The pit of dread was heavy in his stomach as they started back down the hallway.

James managed to speak through a suddenly dry mouth, "Is Laurel okay?"

Steve glanced at him out of the corner of his eye and nodded. "She's fine, we checked on her last night, in fact, just a few hours ago." The tension in James's shoulders eased slightly, and he blew a relieved sigh out of his mouth, but there was a nagging feeling that told him something contrary to what Steve said about Laurel earlier. They arrived at the room and James entered, then the turned to watch Steve shut the door behind him. Right before the door sealed shut, his mask of composure fell to reveal a look of total panic, leaving James alone with his doubt and his questions.

 _ **Chapter 12 is up! I'm so glad people are liking the story, at least I think you are. If you liked this chapter, or have any suggestions, please let me know by leaving a review. Otherwise, please favorite and follow. Thank you!**_

 _ **kath**_


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13- Home Improvement

Laurel had fallen into a fitful sleep after her tears had ceased to fall, but when she woke up her outlook wasn't any brighter than it had been before. The apartment seemed to echo as she walked around the kitchen listlessly, further emphasizing the emptiness. Numbly, she took a shower, standing under the meager stream until it turned from lukewarm to cold. Stepping out of the bathroom, shivering slightly from the cold water, the emptiness seemed to increase and Laurel frowned to herself. She stared at the peeling paint on the opposite wall and feeling a sudden surge of self-hatred for what she usually viewed as pathetic behavior, walked determinedly to her miniscule closet.

"Get your shit together Laurel. You aren't a hormonal 15-year-old girl. At least you know that James is okay." Rolling her shoulders back, she changed into her shabbiest clothes, which if she was being honest weren't that much better than her other clothes, and made the 10-minute trek to the hardware store. Two hours later she emerged with a brown paper bag and as much knowledge about painting as the older man who was working at the counter could cram onto the back of her receipt. He had seen the slightly panicked look in her eyes when she had awkwardly approached the counter and asked how to paint. The guy, who had introduced himself as Henry, had patiently walked her through all the supplies and even recommended a lock for her to replace the broken one on her door.

On her walk back, busy reading Henry's instructions, Laurel was shoulder checked by a hulking man who was dressed in all black with a leather jacket. The bag fell out of her grasp and she watched helplessly as the carefully packed painting supplies spilled all over the street.

Laurel whined, "Hey man, what the hell?" But when the man turned and looked at her, she was overcome with the feeling that she probably shouldn't have said anything. He was massive, at least a foot and a half taller than her and well over 100 pounds heavier. But the look on his face was what truly was unusual. Shivers immediately ran down her spine at the snarl of his mouth, but accompanied with the look of recognition in his eyes it made for a horrifying picture. Laurel broke eye contact and busied herself with picking up the brushes and tarps that had fallen out onto the sidewalk. His boots remained in the corner of her eye, unmoving. She glanced up to see him still staring at her and fought the cold sweat that broke out on her back.

"Can I help you with something?" She stood, the bag back in her arms, holding it tightly to her chest in an attempt to shield herself from the vibes the stranger was giving.

"No thank you Laurel," he spoke in a surprisingly eloquent, high-pitched voice, slightly marred by what sounded like a German accent, "have a pleasant rest of your day." Then he turned on his heel and walked the other way down the street, a slow and leisurely pace that made Laurel more nervous than anything else. He seemed at ease, like he completely owned the street, unafraid of whatever might happen and he carried an air of dread that swallowed her ability to make decisions. Laurel swallowed hard and turned, practically running the rest of the way back to her house. She sprinted up the stairs, ignoring the fact that it made enough noise to wake the entire block. She locked the door behind her and dropped the bag, panting out of fear and also because she was incredibly unathletic. Several minutes later, she stood up straight and began to relax.

Laurel carefully looked out of the window, and when she saw the street was completely deserted except for an old man and his dog, she breathed a heavy sigh and tried to forget the unsettling encounter. Checking the time, she realized that she only had a few hours until work started and she wouldn't have time to paint until after work. Desperate to put herself in a better mood, Laurel tried to busy herself setting up to paint, washing the walls and cringing at how much grime was left in the bucket after she was done. It occurred to her that this might have been the first time she had ever washed her apartment and so just to be safe she washed them twice. The water had turned a dingy gray color and smelled sort of like cigarette smoke, which Laurel hadn't interacted with since her last boyfriend had broken up with her a year ago. Casually reading over the instructions Henry had given her, she glanced at the clock and swore violently when she realized she was already 20 minutes late for work.

Running down the stairs, she practically fell into the Red Lantern, frantically tying her hair up as she said, "Richard, I am so sorry I'm late. I was painting, well more like trying to paint, and I lost track of-" She stopped at the sight of a familiar, although slightly nervous looking face.

"What the fresh hell are you doing here?" Sam's face twitched at Laurel's slightly childish insult but otherwise remained stoic.

He motioned to the battered bar, "Um, I have work. Richard told me to start because you were late."

"It was only twenty minutes! I lost track of time, god literally the only time-" Laurel stomped behind the bar and threw her purse under the counter. She sighed deeply, "I'm here now, and I don't need help. Don't you have someone else's relationship to ruin?"

"Laurel, I-"

"Or don't you have an unarmed person to hold a gun to?" Sam winced and swallowed.

Sam held up his hands in a placating manner and said, "Look, I was just doing my job. Steve asked me for help, and I helped him. I was never going to hurt you." Laurel snorted condescendingly and rolled her eyes. Her retort was interrupted when a customer came through the door and she had to start serving. The night passed with icy silence on Laurel's end and half-hearted attempts at conversation on Sam's end. Several times throughout the night, during pauses in the rush of customers, Laurel could feel eyes on her. At first, she assumed that Sam, attempting to make conversation, but the nagging continued. The feeling was coming from the corner of the room, but every time she glanced over there wasn't anyone conspicuous and she tried to ignore the feeling and continue as usual. The tension was strained until the last customer had left and they began cleaning the bar. Laurel was sweeping viciously, imagining that the trash and the peanut shells on the floor were Sam's and Steve's heads, when a throat was cleared behind her. She turned slowly to see Sam standing in front of her with hands in his pockets.

"Laurel I'm really sorry. If we felt like we had any other choice we wouldn't have taken him from you, and here. I saw how you two were together, and it was like he filled out the shell that I saw when I interacted with him other times. But you have to understand, he was in serious danger here. There are other people looking for him too, and they are nowhere near as nice we were. We don't know what they would try to do with him." His voice was low and intense and he maintained eye contact the whole time. Laurel looked for any sign of insincerity in his eyes and finding none, nodded slowly.

The damn of emotion that Laurel had been suppressing finally broke and she sniffled a little, her eyes watering despite her efforts to suppressing them. "Is he okay?" Sam nodded and Laurel sighed once, then turned and continued sweeping, with much less force than she had been before. They finished cleaning up the bar in silence, but the silence was less strained. They walked out of the bar together and Laurel turned towards her apartment, expecting Sam to go the other way, but he walked silently with her to her door and stood silently next to her while she unlocked the door. Laurel paused momentarily and said, "Did you need something?"

Sam shuffled his feet a little awkwardly and said, "I need to make sure you need to get home safe."

"Why? Didn't you get what you wanted from me anyway?" Laurel asked acidly, raising an eyebrow without looking at him, still shuffling through her keys, and was pleased to see Sam shift on his feet again.

"James asked us to." Hearing this, Laurel dropped her keys on the sidewalk. Sam deftly retrieved them and reached over to unlock the door with ease. He gestured for her to enter, and then followed her, closing and locking the door afterwards. Laurel let him into her apartment, watching him with complete shock as he wandered around freely, completely comfortable.

"James asked you to take care of me? When?" Out of habit and politeness Laurel walked over to the cupboard and pulled two mugs and the coffee from the cupboard.

Sam had taken a seat on the sunken couch that James had been using to sleep on, and was curiously surveying the painting supplies that were strewn over the floor. "Last night. Are you painting something?"

"Yeah, I'm painting this wall blue. So you talked to him last night?" Motioning vaguely in the direction of the wall with the windows, Laurel walked over to the couch holding the mug of coffee. She handed it to Sam who seemed mildly surprised but accepted it anyway.

"Weird time for coffee," he commented mildly, but sipped it anyway.

Laurel gave a half-shrug and sipped her coffee, "Sleep schedules are for losers." Sam chuckled dryly and nodded in agreement. They made it halfway through the cups before Laurel couldn't handle it anymore and asked,

"So did you talk to James last night or not?"

Sam shook his head, "Not personally, but Steve did, and said that this, making sure you were safe, is the only thing he asked for. That means I'll be hanging out here for a while longer if that's okay." Laurel nodded her affirmation and the two of them sat silently for several minutes, finishing the coffee.

Sam stood and stretched, then walked over to the tarps and began stretching them out over the battered wood floor. Laurel watched carefully for a few moments and then asked, "What the hell are you doing Sam?"

"What does it look like I'm doing Laurel? I'm helping you paint." Laurel thought for a few moments and then nodded and joined him. The work was mindless and soothing, and by the time the few rays of sunlight were lighting up the room, they were staring at a blue wall that was a startlingly similar shade to a certain metal armed man's eyes. Laurel cringed inwardly and prayed that Sam didn't notice the similarity, but the tall man didn't say anything. He was currently lying prone on the ground staring aimlessly at the ceiling.

He groaned from his position on the floor, "You know how you said that sleep schedules are for losers, I might be one of those losers. I have no idea how you function like this."

"I usually don't. But I don't have to work tonight because I basically blackmailed Richard into giving me the night off. Plus it's been hard for me to sleep recently anyway," Laurel paused, and a slightly awkward silence fell in the room. She continued, "You can take a nap if you want to, just use the couch."

Sam nodded silently, and then pulled his body off of the ground slowly, being careful to not step on the paint splattered around the canvases. He threw his body on the already sagging couch and Laurel winced when the springs let out on exhausted squeal.

"You're going to go to sleep now too right?" He raised his arm from across his eye and looked at Laurel. Laurel nodded and motioned toward her door.

"My bedroom is right there, I think it's time for me to try to get some sleep. I'll let you know when I wake up." Sam nodded, already drifting off, and Laurel walked into her bathroom with a slight smile on her face. She finally allowed herself to think about all of the information Sam had given her as she was brushing her teeth, completely relieved that James was safe, but slightly bitter than safe didn't include her. An involuntary shiver ran down Laurel's spine at the explanation for the man sleeping on the couch presence, but for some reason she couldn't convince herself to be afraid. Spontaneously Laurel decided that she couldn't live in constant fear unless she wanted to drive herself crazy, and she was crazy enough as it was. Now that James was safe, the danger that had been hanging over her life had receded, even if she had lost someone important in the process.

She slipped into her bedroom and changed into James's baggy t-shirt that had been left on the floor and a pair of shorts that were too short to wear anywhere else without making some old ladies uncomfortable. Sliding into bed, she fell almost immediately into a light sleep, plagued by dreams of men in black leather jackets and finding James injured in her apartment.

Several hours later, with the sunlight filtering under the door, Laurel woke up violently to what sounded like a loud thump and a grunt from the other side of door. Without a second thought she threw herself under the bed and grabbed her baseball bat that was laying under the bed, covered in dust. She stood carefully, and peeked out of the door, which was cracked open. Her stomach dropped down to the floor when she saw 3 hulking figures dressed in black standing comfortably in the middle of her apartment, talking quietly amongst themselves. Shifting her view, she could see the crumpled figure of Sam laying on the floor near the sofa, apparently unconscious. The three men started to turn towards her door and Laurel immediately threw herself under the bed, gripping her bat tightly. The door was kicked open and three pairs of heavy black boots trekked into her room.

"She's not here." The voice was low and guttural, with an accent.

The boots moved around the bed. "Of course she's here you dumbass, her window is still closed." Laurel started shaking when the boots stopped right in front her the closest, and threw it open. There were no boots in front of the door so Laurel slid as silently and quickly as she could from under the bed and crawled toward the door. A throat cleared behind her and Laurel kept going, gripping the baseball bat even tighter in her hand.

"Excuse me, Laurel? Where do you think you're going?" Laurel squeezed her eyes shut, and stood slowly, all the while continuing to walk forward and out. The hand holding the baseball bat was getting sweaty, but Laurel gripped it even tighter. There was an amused snort from behind her and then movement. Laurel took a deep breath and pivoted, facing a man who was at least two feet taller than her and well over 275 pounds of muscle.

"I'm sorry, who are you?" Laurel adopted a defensive stance.

The man, who was joined by two more similarly huge men smiled, a sickly smile that sent shivers down her back. "It doesn't matter who we are. You have something we want." Laurel glanced at Sam, and noticed the bleeding lump on his forehead, explaining the thump Laurel had heard earlier.

"I don't know what you're talking about." Laurel kept backing up, her legs hitting the paintbrushes that she and Sam had forgotten to clean, she could feel the still wet paint hitting her calves. The men kept walking towards her, slowly and leisurely, with small smiles on their faces.

The man just held out his hand in a placating manner. "We know you do. Just put down the bat and come with us." Laurel shook her head.

"I don't have anything." Laurel shook her head violently, trying to prove what she already thought was obvious.

One of the men from the back growled under his breath, "Fuck this." He started toward Laurel and Laurel waited as long as she possibly could before taking a deep breath and swinging. The man anticipated her swinging high but she swung low and cracked her bat on his kneecaps. He dropped to the ground with a howl and then all chaos broke loose.

One of the other men started towards her with a frown, and Laurel swung again, attempting to distract them. The man blocked the swing easily and then threw a punch, which Laurel ducked under and managed to hit him in the stomach. He exhaled angrily and swung his leg around, sweeping Laurels legs out from under her and landing on her back. She groaned and the grip on her bat loosened a little. The first man, who had been hanging back, seemingly a little surprised at Laurel's counter attacks, stepped forward and kicked the bat away from her hand. Laurel, who was struggling to get her breath back, stood slowly, but was immediately thrown to the ground by a punch to her jaw from the second man. Her face was smarting and she couldn't see clearly, but she struggled to her feet anyway and started toward the door. She could feel a trickle of blood crawling down her lip but she tried to ignore it, desperate to escape.

The first man chuckled, "Laurel, you are a very surprising individual. However, I need you to come with us, so I'm going to have do this." He pulled a canister from his belt and while maintaining eye contact with Laurel, sprayed it onto a small rag. Laurel limped backwards faster and then turned to try to run, but the first man easily caught her and clamped the rag over her nose and mouth. Trying not to breath proved futile, and the last thing she saw before everything went black was the painted wall that was color of James's eyes.

 _ **Chapter 13 and trouble for Laurel! Thank you so much those of you who are reading and liking the story. If you have any suggestions or even just comment, please feel free to leave a review. Otherwise, favorite and follow! Thanks again!**_

 _ **kath**_


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14- Isolation

 _ **Hey everyone! Just a quick note, this chapter does mention abuse and some darker themes. I just wanted to make sure you all know. Thank you!**_

Laurel woke up with a start in the dark, believing for a second that she was still in her apartment. She was sitting upright, on something that she identified after several moments of confusion as metal chair, given how uncomfortable her backside was, but the dark was so thick that she couldn't see two inches in front of her face. Trying to stand up, she was violently thrown back down into her chair as her wrists were caught behind her and her ankles were restrained on the legs of the chair. A cold sweat broke out on her back and she pointlessly tried to stand again, even though she knew that handcuffs weren't known for being easily breakable. The cold metal dug into her wrists sharply and she winced at the pull they created. The side of her face throbbed and recalled somewhat violently, the last memories she had. The memories alone sent her into full body tremors that took several minutes to subside.

Laurel had to force herself to take several deep breaths, finding that terror had temporarily taken her ability to breath. The air wherever she was felt damp and cold, with the odor of mold. Other than the sound of her breathing, the room was completely silent, and it was suffocating. The overwhelming urge to scream overtook her but she swallowed it as much as she could, involuntarily letting a few whimpers out. Panicking wouldn't do much for her now, being so completely unaware of her surroundings. Straining her ears once more, she gritted her teeth in frustration and rattled the handcuffs on her arms, ignoring when they cut her wrists. She pulled on the handcuffs until she felt the warm blood dripping off her fingers before finally resigning herself to being stuck in the seat.

There was no way to tell how long she sat in the dark, waiting for god knows what. To Laurel, shivering from cold and fear, it felt like an eternity. Her stomach tightened in hunger, despite her fear, and growled loudly at intermediate intervals. Any semblance of hydration that she had before she was taken was gone, along with all the saliva in her mouth, leaving her throat feeling like it had been coated with sand. Most of her initial terror had faded, leaving her with a pit of dread in her stomach that felt like it was eating her from the inside outwards.

At some point, due to her complete mental and emotional exhaustion, Laurel drifted off to sleep, but was startled awake suddenly with a bright light flicking on. She blinked her eyes slowly, trying to wake up enough to process what was going on. Her brain snapped into high gear when she saw a man standing in front of her holding a tray of food. Laurel's eyes flitted from side to side quickly, trying to observe where she was. The space, more accurately described as a cell, was small and dark, with a single strip of fluorescent lights attached to the ceiling with wires. The walls were rough brick and sitting in front of Laurel was a small metal table, sitting just out of her reach. The man in front of her set the food down and Laurel almost slumped over at the sight of one roll and a pile of beans that looked so old they could have been served during the Dark Ages.

"Where am I?" Laurel willed her voice to remain calm, but the end of her questioned tremored a bit. She wasn't expecting a response from a man who looked like he hadn't smiled in the last 5 years, and she didn't get one. The man remained stoic and silent as he walked around and unlocked her handcuffs from her right wrist, then forcibly bringing her wrists around in front of her to lock the handcuffs on a metal bar attached to the table, allowing her to reach her food. The man then departed as silently as he came and Laurel launched herself the best she could at the meager food.

She lost all sense of dignity as she shoveled the beans into her mouth using her hands. The bread was hard enough that it could also have doubled as one of the bricks in the wall, but she chewed it down. Midway through a bite, her teeth bit into something with a different texture. A liquid flooded her mouth and Laurel froze, then spit the rest of the bread out frantically, trying to rid her mouth of the strangely sweet liquid. There was nothing to wash it out with and Laurel started to hyperventilate. There were a few minutes of paralyzing fear, but when nothing happened immediately, Laurel let herself relax a little. Suddenly, her stomach seized up and she leaned over to the side as best she could and vomited what little she consumed onto the concrete floor. The next 20 minutes were spent retching and vomiting intermediately, trying not to pass out. When her stomach finally decided to calm down, she maneuvered her head to wipe the bile off her mouth with her sleeve, breathing heavily. Her throat burned and the only thing she could do was close her eyes against the tears that had gathered in her eyes and breathe deeply.

When she opened her eyes again, the same man who had given her the food was standing in front of her with a bucket of water that he poured over the mess that Laurel had made next to her chair. She could hear the water running down what could only be a drain and she cringed at the smell. The man unlocked her hands again, and leaned down to unlock her ankles. He bodily hauled her upwards and towards a bucket in the corner. He motioned towards the bucket and Laurel swallowed, then slowly lowered and used the bucket for the bathroom. Afterwards, the man locked her to the chair again, and left turning the light off and leaving her alone once more in overwhelming darkness.

More time passed, and Laurel drifted in and out of sleep. She would wake up, and the dark was always the same, so she would fall asleep again. She also suspected that the amount of sleeping she was doing was due to the fact that she was slowly starving, and her body was trying to conserve energy. Silence became her new companion, and she found herself missing the noisy Red Lantern Saturday nights that she had hated for so long. There was never any noise from behind the door, making the dark seem even larger and more suffocating. Her wrists refused to heal, most likely infected from the initial cuts, and were constantly throbbing and rubbing raw on the handcuffs.

Her thoughts were her only company, but even they weren't much help. The mild nightmare that was her past was constantly creeping into her thoughts with nothing to distract her like work normally would have, and she was going insane. Other than that, Laurel was constantly thinking about James, praying that he was safe and in a comfortable place with Steve, getting healthy. Then she would think about Steve and get angry, angry for the way he had treated James in the last few moments she had seen him. Trying to unpack the whole friendship seemed useless, especially with how little she remembered from classes in school about Captain America and his trusty sidekick Bucky. She was constantly kicking herself for not realizing from the all-American, apple pie vibes that Steve had given off that he was Captain America. Eventually the same thoughts ran themselves out and she fell into blank monotony.

Once a day, a light would flick on and the same man would be standing in front of her, holding a tray of food, and afterwards she used the bucket for the toilet. After the first bad experience with the bread and the pill, Laurel stopped eating the bread they gave her. Then the next day, the pill was in her beans, so the following day, she only ate the bread. What made her the most nervous was the fact that they made no attempt to disguise the pill further, simply placing it in her food, showing that they didn't care if she knew or not. Finally, the day came where the pill was simply sitting by itself on the tray. Laurel examined it curiously. It was a blue capsule, and it reminded her of mouthwash. If only that was the effect it had on her body.

The man motioned toward the food, and Laurel ate it all cautiously, digging through the beans and picking apart the bread, trying to find any hidden pills that might have been. Her entire meal was clean, and she breathed a sigh of relief and of satisfaction when her stomach eased its constant ache. Glancing up at the guard, he was motioning to the pill. Laurel instinctively shook her head, and pushed the tray as best she could away from her. The next thing she knew, her head was slammed downwards on the table and pulled forcefully upwards by her hair. Dazed and unable to see clearly, Laurel felt a gun on her temple and she froze. The hulking pulled the tray forwards and motioned to the pill again. Reaching towards it with trembling fingers, she picked the pill up and put it into her mouth. The guard covered her mouth and nose so she would swallow, and when he was satisfied she did, he released her roughly. Two tears slid down her cheeks involuntarily, but no more came after.

Thirty minutes later, Laurel took a shaking breath and leaned back the best she could, tasting and smelling the bile in her throat and on the floor. There was a large lump rising on her forehead where the guard had hit it on the cold metal table, and the beginnings of what she was sure was going to be one hell of a headache. Just like he did every day, the guard washed the vomit down the drain with a bucket of cold water that splashed on her feet and her calves.

More time passed, but now the blue capsule wasn't a part of her meals. Instead, they mixed the powder into the foods themselves, and refusal to eat meant a beating from her friendly guard. Mealtime was associated with pain to her now, and she started to hope they would forget about her meal rather than bring it. Laurel had no idea how much time had passed now, her only time marker was when the man came in with a plate of poison for her to consume.

Then one day, the sight Laurel woke up to was much more sinister. Instead of her regular guard, who she had grown accustomed to, there were 3 men, one of whom she recognized vaguely. Two on the sides and were wearing the customary black outfit of the other guards. In addition, they were holding clubs in their gloved fists. The man in the middle was the one she recognized, and he was wearing a black suit, differentiating him from the others.

"Hello Laurel." The man spoke and she instantly recognized him. He was the man from the street, who she had bumped into when she was picking up painting supplies. That seemed like ages ago when she was finally painting her peeling wall in her tiny apartment, in another world. Recoiling, she said nothing to him. The man smiled at her, in a way that would have bordered on fatherly if it hadn't been so terrifying.

The man smiled again and slowly pulled a knife from his belt. "My name is Simeon. Here's how it's going to work. I ask questions, and you answer them. There are wrong answers, and we're going to have a problem if you choose to say those, all right?" Laurel nodded frantically and the man smiled, satisfied.

"Who are you?" His first question was direct and so simple that Laurel was taken aback. She cleared her throat and tried to speak. Her throat was so unused to speaking that her voice caught in her throat a few times before she was able to formulate a reply.

Finally, her vocal cords cooperated and she croaked out, "Laurel Anderson."

Shaking his head, Simeon smiled slightly and then Laurel's cheek was branded with what felt like fire. All Laurel could feel a hot liquid running down her cheek. She stared in disbelief at the knife, now delicately outlined in red in the cruel man's hand. Laurel suddenly realized how much danger she was in with this man, playing a game that could never go in her favor.

"Wrong answer Laurel. We know that bullshit already. Your name is Laurel Charlotte Anderson, you're 24 years old, going to be 25 in a few months. You have been working at the establishment named the Red Lantern for the past 3 years and living above it in the attached apartment. Your parents are both dead, one from drugs and the other from a gunshot, and you have no extended family. You have been financially independent since you were 16 years old, and until you found your job at the Red Lantern, you were working as a call girl."

Laurel stared at Simeon in horror, with tears dripping down her face, intermingling with the red that was already flowing off of her lower cheek. That was a part of her past that she didn't share with anyone, and the fact that he had read it off like a news anchor reading off the evening news made her life seem so worthless. The death of her shithole parents was news to her as she had cut ties with them as soon as she was old enough, but it still stung almost as badly as the knife wound on her face.

Simeon looked up, completely unaffected by the tears, and said, "We want to know who you really are. Why would they choose you to house the asset, out of all people? What are your ties to them?" He walked slowly around her chair and paused behind her.

Laurel shook her head vehemently, "I don't have any. I swear. I'm don't know who 'they' are!"

Another fire started, this time between her shoulder blades. Laurel arched desperately, crying out in a strangled voice, trying to get the pain to go away. She couldn't remember a time when she had been in this much pain, and she just wanted it to be over, more than anything. She just wanted to wake up in her tiny shitty apartment.

"Wrong answer Laurel," he hissed into her ear. His breath smelled like cheap cigarettes and vodka and Laurel fought another sudden urge to vomit, but there was nothing to empty.

Panting, Laurel said, "I don't know what the fuck you want from me. I just took a guy in for a few days. I wasn't even getting paid, or laid for that matter." It was like a dam had broken on her mouth and she was spouting out whatever came to her head if it could get them to leave her alone.

"Nope!" Simeon sounded cheerful as he brought the knife swishing through the air onto her bare shin. Laurel screamed and jumped backwards in the chair, catching her already tender wrists and ankles.

"I don't know how to help you. James stayed at my apartment for a few days, and then they took him. I don't know where, I don't know why, I don't even know who you are!"

Simeon paused and said, "James?" His voice lilted a little in question and Laurel nodded. She wasn't sure why that word had caught his attention, but at least he had stopped and she could try to catch her breath through the pain.

Abruptly Simeon spun on his heel and left the room, but paused on the way out and said, "Don't kill her yet." Laurel swallowed hard at the careless tone in his voice and tried not to cry when the two other men moved forward, each brandishing a club. The next few minutes were a haze of pain and trying to stay conscious. There was no end to the blows it seemed. Her chair ended up on the floor, and she vaguely realized that her head was resting on the drainpipe that her vomit was poured down every day.

Suddenly, the new bursts of pain stopped and she dimly felt the chair being lifted back upwards onto its four legs. Through her haze, she could vaguely hear some chatter in a language that she couldn't understand. A sudden icy splash brought her back into her own body again and she gasped at the icy water dripping down her body, into the fresh wounds.

Managing to look upwards, she viewed Simeon was standing in front of her with a sickening smirk on his face, holding a camera. "Smile Laurel."

Completely spent, Laurel stared blankly at the camera and didn't even blink in the face of the bright flash. Simeon checked the image, then nodded in satisfaction.

"Nice job Laurel. We'll talk later okay?" again the sinister smile crossed the face of the psychopath and he walked out of the room, followed by his two goons, and Laurel was left alone. The light flicked off and all she could hear was the drip of her own blood. Her strength was fading and her eyes closed by themselves. The last thing she remembered is half-heartedly praying that she would wake up, but not really caring if she did.

 _ **Okay! That was definitely a harder chapter to write. Laurel is a strong girl though, and I promise that things will change. Thank you so much for reading. Please leave a review, if you have any suggestions or anything you liked. Otherwise, like and follow. Thank you!**_

 _ **kath**_


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15- The Truth Finds a Way

Bucky POV

Bucky was about to punch through his own head. It had been a few weeks since he first came to the compound and he had done his best to behave, but it was so monotonous he was going insane. His entire day was spent either sparring with Steve or sitting in his room. There was nothing keeping him company except his thoughts and the books on the shelf, all of which he had already read. On top of that, Steve was withdrawn and antsy, a sure sign that there was something wrong, but whenever Bucky brought it up, he couldn't get anything out of him. He felt like he was drowning in a sea of routine and doubt and he just really wanted to see Laurel, who was the only thing popping into his head as much as his doubts about Steve were.

One night, Bucky was sitting huddled on his bed, avoiding the sleep which brought his nightmares to the forefront in his mind, when he decided that he had had enough. Walking over to the door and examining it cautiously, he noted the motion sensors that were placed in the corners and the lock on the door, which looked like an automatic lock from the outside. He examined the door, and then just decided to screw logistics and bust through it. Taking a running start, he put his metallic shoulder down and ran towards the door, closing his eyes right before impact. As expected, the first impact left a dent, but didn't break it. It did weaken the door enough that with one swift kick, he was striding out into the hallway, barely breathing harder than he had been before. The hallway was quiet, even if he knew that would not be the case for much longer and picking a random direction he started striding purposefully down the hallway, knowing he was being watched and monitored. The hallway was dark and quiet, lit only with small overhead lights. He hadn't heard any commotion from down the hallway, so he attempted to open a few of the doors that lined the hallway. Most of them didn't open, but there was one that was cracked open. His heightened hearing detected no human sounds coming from the room, so he slid into empty space and gaped openly at the scene he was met with.

Several computer screens stared at him, blinking rapidly. The screens were scanning through thousands of images at one time, flying through them to the point where his eyes almost couldn't track them. Glancing up on the large screen, Bucky started back in horror at what the smaller computers were apparently searching for.

Laurel's brown eyes stared back at him from a photo, but for a second, he didn't even recognize her. The eyes that he had spent a near obsessive amount of time thinking about during his isolation were dull and glassy, like that of the dead, staring out from two black eyes. There was blood covering one side of her face and pooled underneath her nose, dripping over her lips. Bucky's chest was rising and falling rapidly, and there were dark spots in front of his vision as he tried to regain control of his mind and emotions. A noise from behind him had him whirling around with intent to kill whatever was nearby. A mousey assistant stood in front of him, holding a full cup of coffee and a cookie. The small man bore the unfortunate brunt of Bucky's anger when his metal fist closed around his neck and lifted him off of the ground and slammed him against the wall. The small gurgling noises that the man was making and the small attempts to claw the metal hand off his throat didn't even phase Bucky. Suddenly, something blonde entered his peripheral vision and threw him off of the assistant and back against a desk. Standing, his anger only increasing, he faced off of Steve, who was looking at him not with fear, but some sort of resigned understanding in his eyes.

Bucky watched the assistant scramble out of the room, feeling slightly amused as he massaged his neck furiously. Steve made a move and Bucky's blue eyes snapped back to the tall man, narrowing suspiciously. Suddenly his anger returned tenfold and he glanced back at the still blinking computer screens and Laurel's photo.

"What the hell is that? This better be fake or a-a sick joke because son of a bitch if that's real? I'd…" He trailed off, because he wasn't even sure what would happen.

Steve looked down for a moment, and then looked back up and met his eyes, "It's real Buck. We received the picture nine days ago." The sick feeling that Bucky had in his stomach was spreading rapidly as Steve pulled a folded piece of white paper out of his pocket. He handed it over to Bucky and said, "Buck, be careful, it's tough stuff." But Bucky was already unfolding the paper and staring in horror at the full picture. The computer had only shown her face, and Bucky was suddenly glad that the assistant hadn't been around when he had seen it. His chest was tight, and he couldn't hear anything. Laurel was chained to a metal chair and if Bucky had thought her face injuries were bad nothing could have prepared him for what he saw of the injuries on her body. There was blood everywhere, on her torso mostly originating from what appeared to be a knife wound and covering one leg, all the way down to her bare foot.

For the first time in forever, Bucky started to feel nauseous. The Asset, as if sensing the loss of control, tried to fight his way to the surface, but Bucky held it back, digging his nails into his palms until they broke the skin and a rivulet of blood made its lazy way down the skin of his palms.

"So where is she? When do we go get her?" Bucky was speaking around a dry throat and he tried to swallow desperately. He wiped his hand on his pants, hissing under his breath as he grazed the broken skin.

Steve shook his head, reaching his hands out like an attempt for Buck to get to see his point of view, like he was pushing his opinions toward him. "Buck, we have no idea where she is, we've been searching for days, constantly searching every camera, every computer, everything."

"I thought that your intelligence was the best in the world, or were you lying about that too?" Bucky could hear the sharpness of his voice and tried to focus on the present.

Steve shook his head slightly and said, "Look, I know how hard this whole situation has been for you being isolated like this. She was the first person who you really connected with after you got out and it seemed like knowing she was missing would be destructive rather than help with your recovery."

Bucky had heard enough, and he pushed out at Steve, forcing him to the cold metal wall with a thump. He thrust his forearm against Steve's throat, feeling one of the most powerful surges of rages he had ever experienced. He could barely hear himself yelling over the blood rushing in his ears. "You call this recovery?" he roared into Steve's face. "I have been alone except for you in this fucking science lab, being watched like a mouse in a cage! You know who else did that? Hydra. You're no different than they are, treating me like a weapon that could go off at any second."

"What did you want me to do Buck? What did you expect me to do?" Steve wasn't even really struggling, just looking into Bucky's blue eyes with genuine confusion. "To be blunt, your record speaks for itself and we couldn't have you walking around the damn street, you are still a wanted criminal after all. Even if Laurel didn't know about what you are or what you've done, how long would it have taken for her to find out? Then you would have been on your own, just like you always were."

Bucky pushed off of Steve and took several steps back, eyes still locked. "So, you were what, you were going to let me stay alone in my cell for the rest of my life? Until I die alone? Why would you want that for me, your oldest friend?"

Steve didn't answer, but his eyes said enough. To him Bucky was a threat and always would be, and despite the fact that he claimed to only want to help him, Steve was doing this to protect everyone else. For the first time in his life outside of Hydra, he felt like he was looking at Steve and not recognizing him. He knew it was selfish, expecting Steve to put Bucky's wants before everyone else, but it didn't make it hurt any less. Bucky opened his mouth to speak but before he could, one of the computer screens let out a small ping and the rest of the blinking screens froze, all pulling up the same image. Bucky's heart jumped into his throat as he stared at the screen in disbelief.

A picture of Laurel, limp and being carried between 2 burly men was reflected on the screen. She was bound and gagged, but even with the grainy resolution of the photo Bucky and Steve could both see how damaged her body was. Her shirt was stained a deep red and it didn't look like any of her wounds had been treated. Bucky had to force himself to focus on the other aspects of the picture, trying desperately to gain some sort of clue as to her location and who took her. His eyes lighted on the man in front of the two who were carrying Laurel's body and his shoulders tensed up. He knew exactly who that was, what he wanted, and even where they were. It was a location he had come to know well and the sight of it brought back memories that haunted him endlessly.

Steve had been speaking to him for several seconds, but Bucky only heard the last few words, "-we'll get someone on find out who those men are right away. It will only be a few more hours and we'll have a location."

"No! That's too long, she'll be gone by then. We have to go now. No time to waste." Bucky started moving out the door and toward an unknown destination. He just needed to start moving so it felt like he was doing something to help."

Steve stepped in front of him and said, "Buck, look we really can't let you out without proper-"

"No offense Steve, but fuck what you were going to say. I know who we're up against and I know exactly what he wants, and that's me. If you and whoever you're working with show up alone Laurel is going to die, and that is a guarantee. No," he held up his had to stop Steve from interrupting, "I am not letting you bet her life on that, because the man we are up against will do anything it takes to have me back in his clutches. If you really want to find her and save this girl, then I am not going to tell you where she is unless I get to come with. You make your choice, because you don't have much time until that innocent girl's death is on your conscience."

A steely look came into Steve's eyes and he nodded, then he put his finger to his ear and barked out several words. Instantly the building came alive with activity, with agents pouring out unknown locations into the hallway, running like ants to their hill and trying to get ready. Steve lead Bucky to a room down the long hallway that held the iconic Captain America gear. He started to suit up before pointing to a separate case, "My reconnaissance armor is in that closet, put that on and we'll go."

Upon inspection, the clothes were dark and clearly bullet proof, with a dark hood and light, reinforced boots that were not unlike the ones he had been made to wear as the Winter Soldier. He pulled the gear on as quickly as he possibly could, thanking whoever was listening that he and Steve were the same size. Bucky pulled the gloves on, coving the shining metal in cool dark leather.

"Okay, where do I go get a weapon?" He asked, shouldering the pack that had come as a part of the set.

Steve shook his head slightly, "You don't, I thought that would have been obvious. It's too big of a risk."

"Don't bullshit me Steve and get me a gun. For fuck's sake." Steve looked a bit taken aback but then nodded and lead him to another room. Bucky selected two handguns and strapped them to his ankles, and then took a massive automatic rifle and slung it over his back, dumping several cases of bullets into his pockets. Glancing around furtively, he grabbed two smoke bombs and stuck them into his front pockets and stood, rearranging his clothes and nodding to Steve to indicate that he was ready to go. They walked out side by side to a waiting van and clambered in, shutting the door behind them. They were sitting with 3 unknown agents and Agent Hill, who looked like she would rather be punched in the face repeatedly that be in an enclosed space with Bucky.

"Okay Buck, where are we headed?"

"We're headed to Maryland. A tiny town called Mora."

Without another word, the procession of vans pulled out and started tearing down the mostly abandoned streets. It was early morning and there was little to no traffic, which was a blessing.

Steve got Bucky's attention and said, "Bucky, what's in Maryland?"

"Simeon Rush's house, or at least what used to be his house." Bucky rubbed the back of his neck trying to stem the flow of images that were consuming his brain.

Steve frowned, "Simeon Rush, why do I know that name?"

"Maybe his name came up in one of the old case files you have. He was a Person of Interest for SHIELD for a while. He was developing explosives out on his farm for the highest bidder, and they were good. So good, that dangerous people started to notice him. But then he double crossed his buyers, taking his information to the government and putting a giant target on his back. One of the biggest targets was put there by Hydra, who lost a big chunk of their Northeastern business with the information he sold. He was told to get out of the country, but he didn't listen and kept his family in the same place. So Hydra got rid of them." Bucky tried to swallow the rolls of self-revulsion that were creeping up.

"And by got rid of them you mean-" Steve stared meaningfully at Bucky and he nodded.

"Yeah, I killed his entire family. Simeon got out somehow, but barely, and disappeared completely for years, but apparently, he was building up to his revenge on me. I guess I don't blame him."

"Bucky, you were brainwashed, it wasn't your choice." Bucky just snorted and stared straight ahead.

The rest of the trip was quiet, but suddenly the car pulled to a stop. Bucky tensed, his muscles flexed in anticipation. He had one goal in his mind, and nothing would stop him from getting what he needed.

"Are you ready?" Steve looked and him and Bucky nodded. "Then let's go," and pushed the doors open.

 _ **Surprisingly, the story is not abandoned. Life caught up with me and I lost my inspiration for a bit, but hopefully I'll have it for a while longer! Please favorite and follow if you liked the chapter. If you really liked it or have any suggestions or comments, leave a review! Thank you so much!**_

 _ **kath**_


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Bucky POV

The procession of vans unloaded silently. They were on a silent country road in complete darkness, with stars that were twinkling down on them. The cool air flowed over Bucky's face and heightened his senses. The darkness only hindered Bucky and Steve's vision slightly, and at the other end of the field, they could pick out was a shack and a barn. To a casual observer, it was an idyllic scene, but the tension was palpable. The only thing that was out of place was the security cameras that were placed on the borders of the property and the thin wire that was crackling with electricity.

Bucky and Steve moved forward onto the property, guns ready and on high defense. Bucky felt like every single hair on his head was on end, every nerve in his body was crackling with a fire that he focused into observation. They were moving smoothly and silently through the property, but it was too easy. They knew that they were being watched, and the fact that there was no attack yet meant that Simeon was waiting for something. The barn and shack were looming over them now, and suddenly the farm lit up.

There were shots ringing out from every side, every angle. To Bucky it seemed like every square inch of the farm had bullets coming from it and his senses were in overdrive. He fired several shots toward the source of the noise and was satisfied when the spray of bullets from that direction lessened significantly. By now the rest of the agents that came on the mission had overtaken the majority of Simeon's men, but there was still fighting throughout the yard. Bucky and Steve were able to meet, both men slightly out of breath and disheveled but none the worse for wear.

"Buck let's head towards the barn and find Laurel. That's probably where she would be kept. That part of the farm was way too quiet during the fighting." Steve motioned toward the barn and Bucky and Steve sprinted off toward the giant structure, which was faintly illuminated from the inside. They slid into the partially opened door and walked forward cautiously. Bucky was taking into account the walls that looked like they were covered with wiring and small metallic disks with blinking lights, attached up and down the walls. Even the casual observer could have heard the hum of electricity that was seeping through the air. The pit of tension in Bucky's stomach tripled at the otherwise silent and empty room. The gunshots coming from outside had faded away into the background.

"What the hell?" Steve whispered, more to himself than to Bucky. In the middle of the room, Laurel was suspended from her wrists, unconscious. Her frame was hanging heavy, and the amount of strain her shoulders were taking was immense. Bucky followed the ropes from her wrist bindings up to the ceiling and saw that the ropes were actually thousands of copper wires, twisted together into one thick rope that led to the lights and wires on the walls.

Carefully trying to break down the possible threats in the room but with as much haste as possible, Bucky ran forward towards Laurel. Her face was deathly pale, and her breathing was slow and labored. He started to lift her legs, trying to alleviate some of the pressure that her shoulders were feeling but Steve hissed, "No don't! We don't know how she's strapped. Moving her at all could set something off."

"So what do you want me to do? Leave her here? Steve look at her, we don't have much time until it's too late, hell it already might be. We need to get her out of here." Bucky was waving his hands around frantically but stopped suddenly when his heightened hearing picked up footsteps entering the barn slowly, but not attempting to be quiet. He tensed and pulled out his pistol but stayed in his position right next to Laurel's body. Simeon entered into view, strolling as leisurely as a Sunday in the park. He smiled at Steve, who stayed in the offensive position, his hand in his gun and the other protecting his body with the shield. Then his eyes lighted on Bucky and the body, and although his smiled stayed where it was, it was as if there was a fire that was lit in his eyes. He looked positively unhinged, and this was coming from someone who was slightly unhinged himself.

"James, you finally found me! I had been waiting for so long, and I was getting tired of waiting. I considered killing her for fun, but then she would have been a lot less useful. She has a very important part to play, you see." Simeon was walking slowly, like a predator stalking his prey. The tension in the air was crackling like a fire, completely consuming what was an already tense situation.

Bucky refused to show any emotion, but his arms were itching to grab the man with both hands and strangle the life out of him. "What do you want?" He tried to move in front of Laurel, shielding her from whatever this maniac was going to do.

"Now, James, you and I both know what I want," Simeon smiled at him like he was scolding a naughty child. "I want you laying dead in front of me, just like my family was." He stood in front of James and folded his hands in front of him.

"Rush please," Steve interjected, "You have to understand that when Bucky did those things he wasn't himself. He was under the control of someone else, and to take it out on a civilian is just cruel."

Simeon turned his large eyes onto Steve and said, "Don't you think you're a little out of line here Captain? At least I'm not lying to our dear Sargent Barnes like you are." Steve stiffened, and Bucky glanced at him in alarm.

"Should we tell him together Steve? Or shall I just do it?" Without waiting for an answer, Simeon turned to Bucky and said, "I sent this picture two and a half weeks ago, and your lovely hosts only started looking for Laurel two days ago. Don't you think it's odd that Steve sanctioned a massive retrieval operation for one civilian? Couldn't it be because they were simply going to do a body retrieval and tie up loose ends? Then later, they tell you that Laurel moved away, some city that you would never know the name of, and the problem would take care of itself. Very convenient I must say, so my regards to you Captain." He motioned over to Steve, who was standing there like someone who had been clubbed over the head.

Bucky could only stare in horror at Steve. There was no way that it could be true, it just simply was not possible. But the more he thought about it, the more sense it made. "You knew that if I knew she was kidnapped, I would try to escape and hunt her down. You couldn't risk me going rogue and being out in public. That's why you wanted all of these men to come with us."

Steve was shaking his head, trying to deny it, but Bucky could tell that it was half-hearted. "Buck please believe me, I was just trying to keep you safe, even if it was safe from yourself. If you got caught by anyone else other than me you would be killed."

"No, you do not get to play the good guy in this situation. Just shut the fuck up Steve. I don't even know who you are anymore." Bucky rolled his shoulders out, desperately trying to rid himself of the suffocating feeling he had, but it was only getting worse. There was a narrowing field of vision and the urge of the Asset was way too strong for him to fight. The critical and mechanical mind of the Asset provided his body significant relief and he tensed into a fighting stance. The Asset knew that he had one objective, and that was to get the small female out of the barn safe and sound, and nothing else mattered. He also acknowledged that killing the man who had harmed his objective would be supremely satisfying, but it was not his main goal.

Holstering his gun for a moment and pulling a knife from his boot, the Asset began searching for a way to cut the wires. Suddenly Simeon chuckled and said, "You might not want to do that Sargent Barnes."

"Tell me how to deactivate the device, the alternative for you will not be ideal. In fact, after I remove the objective from here I might just come back and kill you for the hell of it."

Simeon smiled at him, "Oh, I hope you do. I'd love to see you come back after carrying her dead body from the barn, another failed mission, just like I was. How long did you spend in the freezer when Hydra found out I had survived? Two months, five? Plus, all the torturing for failing your mission. You managed to take out some of the worlds most important leaders and you missed little old me, a nobody. I bet that didn't end well for you." Simeon was smiling now, like he was sharing an anecdote about a family member rather than taunting an assassin. It was as if he could sense the unbearable tension in the body that held the Asset and was digging into it.

Steve walked toward Laurel and the Asset and said, "Buck, don't listen to him, he's just trying to get inside your head and make you do something rash. Focus on what your goal is."

"Yes Bucky," Simeon taunted, "Focus on the goal, but not on your goal with me, where you failed and rather than killing your intended target, you killed an innocent family and your target got away. Don't focus on the fact that the only real relationship you've had in the last decade was going to be left to die by the man you thought was your best friend." The weight of the memories of that mission brought Bucky back into his own head, and he shook it ever so slightly, attempting to calm himself down. He knew that Simeon was trying to get into his head, and he was even more infuriated that it was working. Bucky was trying to focus on his objective, and the amount of turmoil in his head was overwhelming. All he could hear was his own breathing and all he could focus on was the small woman who was struggling to breathe a few inches in front of him.

Steve looked towards Bucky, and Bucky flinched. "Bucky, please. Trust me." Bucky snorted defensively. Steve changed his tactic. "Bucky, I knew you don't trust me, and you have good reason not to. But right now, we need to get you out of here. You are in danger."

Bucky turned, "And what about the woman you were going to let die, isn't she also in danger? I trusted that you were going to take care of her, you promised me you would. Well just because you won't keep your word doesn't mean that I'm not going to."

Striding forward, he aimed carefully at Simeon's head, who didn't look frightened, rather he smiled and raised his eyebrows, taunting Bucky. At the last second Bucky changed his aim and fired into Simeon's gut, ignoring as the criminal dropped to the ground with a grunt of pain. He didn't want Simeon to die, but merely experience the pain that he had put Laurel through until they could arrest him. Turning his attention to the wires around Laurel's wrists he felt incredibly doubtful that the wires actually had anything to do with the bomb. Something in his gut told him that there was more to the explosives than what he could see and he began cutting down the limp body. The second his knife touched the wire that bound her wrists, the lights that covered the walls began blinking faster. Bucky ignored them and continued cutting, even as small alarms began the go off.

"What the hell are you doing Bucky? Can't you see that you're going to cause the bombs to go off? We're all dead if that happens!" Steve moved forward and tried to stop him, but Bucky was ready and with a powerful side kick sent him slamming backwards into the wall, which were lighting up like crazy now as he continued to cut through the wires. Steve ran up to him and punched him, knocking the knife out of his hand as he did so.

"Are you trying to kill us Buck? What is the matter with you?" Steve was staring at him and even though he knew it probably wouldn't do much good, Bucky said, "I don't think that the wires on her wrists have anything to do with the lights and the bombs, it just seems too obvious to me. We need to focus on getting Laurel and ourselves out of here."

"No, if we get Laurel out of here, we will die. The second that last wire is cut we're going to be blown up, all 3 of us. We need to get a bomb squad in here and stabilize the bombs, so we can get her out of here safely." Steve started moving towards the door, and when he realized that Bucky wasn't following him he turned questioningly. The two of them were ignoring the grunts of pain that were coming from Simeon, who was still on the ground.

"Why can't you just trust me? I thought we were supposed to be friends. I didn't ask for all for this to happen to me, and instead of helping me recover, you're treating me like I'm the bomb." Bucky went and picked up the knife once again, then moved towards Laurel's body. Steve ran up to him and tried to grab the knife once more.

"Bucky, I want to trust you more than anything. We are friends, we will always be friends. But I have a responsibility to keep others safe."

The two men were facing off, seemingly oblivious to what was going on around them. The lights and alarms were blinking and beeping, and Simeon was on the ground trying to move to a sitting position, but none of that seemed to register with Steve and Bucky.

"Steve, please let me help her. I need to help her the way she's helped me."

"You know I can't let you take that risk." Steve made a move to grab the knife and Bucky blocked him. Suddenly it was just like one of the sparring sessions that they had practiced over the last few weeks, but the change in the tone made all the difference. Starting lightly, almost unwilling to make the first move, Bucky swung his arm out and when Steve put his hands up to block the punch Bucky swung his foot around and connected with his midriff, pushing him backwards. Suddenly the pace changed, and the two men began fighting furiously in what seemed to be more about their friendship than anything else. Steve stumbled backwards from a kick but was quick to comeback and landed a punch that split Bucky's lip and sent a trickle of blood down the side of his mouth. Bucky growled and wiped off his face, smearing the blood across his chin. He sent a flurry of blows Steve's way, landing some, others getting blocked. Finally, with another massive kick he sent Steve flying across the barn towards the doors, where he slammed into them and slid down to the dirt, groaning.

Bucky strode over and grabbed his knife, then with one final cut, severed the last dozen wires and grabbed Laurel's limp body before it fell to the ground. There was a crescendo of noise as all of the discs starting beeping all at once, increasing their pace and the rate that the lights were blinking at as well. For a moment, Bucky was worried that he had miscalculated, maybe the bomb had been that simple and obvious, but then abruptly, the lights and the noise shut off and there was an over whelming silence.

Then Simeon, who was struggling to breathe, starting chuckling. "I knew you wouldn't fall for that shit. Captain over here is dumb enough to believe that things are always that straightforward, but you knew. But you don't know everything. There is a bomb, and you already activated it." Bucky stiffened, and pulled Laurel's body closer to him, tucking her head onto his shoulder for comfort. He could still hear her ragged breathing, but it was getting fainter and he knew he didn't have much time.

"Where is it Simeon?" Steve came up, looking disheveled and furious. Bucky could sense the hostility coming off of him but couldn't find it in himself to care.

"Right here." Simeon gestured to his midriff and Bucky felt a thrill of horror creep down his spine. "You did exactly what I thought you would. I played on your fears of Bucky," he motioned to Steve, "and the Winter Soldier's memory of the failure he had gone through and it worked," he stopped for a moment, choking and gasping, "like a charm. I am the detonator, and you pushed start. I would say you have about a minute before I die, and the bomb goes off. I had hoped you would shoot me sooner, but you two wasted so much time fighting that it worked out and the bomb has a 600-meter radius, so I would doubt you're going to get far enough away, especially holding her. But go ahead, try. I can't wait to watch you run out of here. Good luck." His breathing got more labored and without another word, Bucky and Steve sprinted out of the barn. Thankfully Laurel was light enough that it wasn't too much of a burden to carry her as Bucky hurtled across the field, desperately trying to get far enough out of range.

There was a sound from behind them, and suddenly it felt like the world was ripping itself apart. The sound of the explosion split the night air and the whole field was lit up with the fire of the blast. Bucky stumbled, but just focused on running, into the fields and father away from the destruction that what happening.

Despite all the chaos was going on, he knew that the minute it was over, he was going to go back into his cage, and he would never see Laurel again. That was not an option for him. Carefully maneuvering his hand down into his pocket without dropping Laurel, he pulling a smoke bomb out of his pocket and preparing to throw it in front of Steve. He threw it and it hit the ground right in front of the blonde man before exploding into a thick cloud of smoke.

Bucky turned tail and ran the opposite direction, across the fields and into the surrounding woods desperate for cover. He ran until his feet were numb, only stopping when he came to the small town of Mora. The town was dark, and Bucky was able to make his way to a convenience store. Wrenching open the back door of the building he slid in and walked through the aisles, searching for what he needed. He changed his clothes and stuffed food, water and medical supplies into a backpack. He then grabbed clothes and blankets for Laurel and wrapped her in them, trying to keep her as warm as possible. She was still breathing, even if it was faint, and Bucky allowed himself a moment to marvel at how strong she was. Then he got moving again.

 _ **Wow, it didn't take me another 6 months to upload, it's a miracle! Anyway, here is chapter 16. If you liked this chapter, feel free to favorite or follow, and if you really liked it or have any suggestions, please let me know by leaving a comment :) thank you!**_

 _ **kath**_


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